


Aion's Key

by Ayyarin



Category: Aion (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-10-21 06:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20689079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayyarin/pseuds/Ayyarin
Summary: Bera once heard herself being referred to as the Key, heiress of a prophecy that has been kept silent in the shadows. She knows nothing of what her fate is, yet her half brother seems to know, and no matter how she wishes for him to tell her, he refuses to shed light on a destiny that he says is filled with despair. What is he trying to protect her from? Who is he? And who is . . . she?(KEY NOTE: KNOWLEDGE OF THE GAME IS NOT REQUIRED IN ORDER TO UNDERSTAND THE STORY).





	1. Prologue

Prologue

_The little girl of six years sat on the lap of her half-brother, who was seated in a comfy armchair within the cosy library of his manor. Her back was snuggled warmly against his chest and his arms encompassed her small frame, holding a book in front of her which she peered at with curiosity and interest._

“_And so Aion granted twelve humans with divine power, which allowed them to ascend to become Daevas,” he said softly, his voice clear. His fingers traced the lines of words across the page so that the little girl could follow them with ease. _

“_Can you read the next line, Bera?”_

_The little girl frowned, but felt her determination harden at the challenge. She was able to read well for her age thanks to her brother’s help, but she struggled with the harder books. This was one of them – a book on lore and history._

“_The Daevas were given the power to fight the . . . the Ba-Balaur, and free the humans that were made slaves to the Drakan rule. These Daevas became known as the . . . the . . .” Bera trailed off, struggling to formulate the letters she was seeing into a sound in her head which she could say verbally. She looked back at her brother. His gentle, emerald eyes gazed back._

_He smiled. “The Empyrean Lords.”_

“_The Empyrean Lords,” Bera repeated with a smile of her own. She turned her attention back to the book. “One of the Empyrean Lords, Lord Israphel, proposed peace talks with the Balaur, which –”_

_Her reading was interrupted by the doorbell and Bera glanced up, distracted. Her body automatically tensed in anticipation, and often excitement when the doorbell rang. When the doorbell rang, it meant there were people at the door, people that Bera had normally never met, and so they were new faces to look at, sparking her curiosity even further._

“_Keep reading,” her brother urged her gently._

_Bera’s gaze lingered for a moment longer at the doors to the library, before she turned her gaze back to the sea of words before her. She continued from where she left off. “– which caused conflict amongst the Em-Empyrean Lords, and so the Cataclysm was born.”_

_A knock came at the library doors and Bera looked up. The right door opened and their butler stood in the doorway, head bowed._

“_I apologise for the interruption, Lord Atherton. There is someone here to see you,” he said._

“_Can it not wait?” Her brother sighed. “If it is another one of Lord Fasimedes’s mere messengers, then send them away, Daniel.”_

“_Forgive me, Lord Atherton, but it is one of Miragent’s Holy Templars.”_

_Bera felt her brother tense and she peered up at him in confusion. “Julius?” She said in a small voice, suddenly nervous at the change in his aura. The gentleness had vanished from his eyes._

_His gaze flickered to hers and some of that gentleness returned. He smiled his warm-hearted smile that Bera loved so much._

“_Sorry, Bera,” he said lightly, picking her up and sitting her in the chair while he stood. “I will be back soon once I have taken care of our visitor.”_

“_Should I read on?”_

“_Yes, and then you can explain it to me when I get back. If you understand it well enough, I will buy you something. How about a necklace?”_

_Bera beamed and nodded vigorously. Julius looked pleased and left the library with Daniel. Her brother’s long, golden hair swished behind him. It was plaited down his back to his waist, very different to Bera’s black, ringlet hair. _

_Bera was now left alone within the peaceful library. She loved this library and the books within. She associated them with Julius. They lived together in their own small world in Oriel, close to the sea._

_Turning her attention back to the book once again, Bera began to read out loud eagerly, determined to make Julius proud by understanding the history of her world._

_She listened to the sound of her young voice as she read. The flow of her reading was halted and slow, nothing like the smooth fluidness of Julius’s voice when he read. Bera felt her heart sink slightly. She wanted him to read to her _now_. She wanted to be beside him, enveloped in his gentleness and warmth. He was the only figure in her mind and heart._

_What of parents?_

_She knew she had some once, but apparently they had died a few years ago. Bera did not feel anything though, because she could not remember them. Her world was Julius, and Julius only._

_Bera realised she had stopped reading and was staring at the ceiling. Remembering his promise of a little gift, she shook her head vigorously and began reading aloud again._

_She could hear something else aside from her voice. Bera paused to listen._

_There were voices, Julius’s and that of another man. They were raised._

_The hair on the back of Bera’s neck stood on end in alarm. Was it an argument? Why was Julius arguing?_

_Curious and worried, Bera moved the book from her lap and slid off the armchair. Carefully, she tiptoed out of the library and towards the front hall. _

_She came to the last corner._

“_She is the Key, Lord Atherton! Will you deny us salvation out of your own selfishness? Lady Ariel, through Lord Fasimedes – Governor of Sanctum – demands that you bring Beralin Atherton to serve as seen by the Daeva of Prophecy!”_

_The foundations of the house began to vibrate as the earth shook beneath. Bera pressed herself up against the wall, eyes wide in terror, clamping both her hands over her mouth to calm her shallow breaths. Was it an earthquake? But Elysea never had any earthquakes. The land was too stable._

“_I will bring Bera to Sanctum when she is of age, and Lady Ariel will meet her personally when the time comes. But I will _not_ allow her to be used as the Key. I do not care what the prophecy speaks. I will not allow it!”_

“_But, Lord Atherton –!”_

_Thunder rumbled above. “I said, NO.”_

_Silence, save for the terrible groan of the earth and thunder._

“_Tsk. Fine. I will report this back to Lord Fasimedes and leave you be. But you cannot keep fighting what is meant to be, Lord Atherton.”_

“_I will fight it,” Julius hissed._

_The door slammed shut, leaving the front hall in growing stillness as the rumbling thunder of the sky and the groan of the earth quietened. Bera stayed where she was, frozen to the spot with her heart pounding in her chest._

_Why were they arguing?_

“_DAMN!” Julius’s voice cracked out like a whip, accompanied by a terrible bang. Bera gave a startled cry, before she pressed her hands against her mouth again, shaking._

_There was a beat of silence._

“_Bera?”_

_Fearfully, Bera gathered the courage to peer around the corner of the wall she hid against. Julius stood facing against the wall, his fist raised and against it, the cause of the deafening bang. His expression fell in dismay as his eyes landed on her. She had never seen such an expression on his face. There was fury, mingled with hopeless desperation and despair._

_A sharp pain split Bera’s chest._

“_How long have you been standing there?”_

_Bera lowered her trembling hands ever so slightly and opened her mouth. “N-not . . . long . . .” She whimpered._

_Julius’s expression grew pained and he looked away. _

“_Wh-what . . . were you arguing about?”_

_Julius’s green eyes met hers briefly, before he then turned away, looking tired. “I am sorry, Bera, for frightening you,” he whispered, walking away. “It might be best if you don’t disturb me for a while.”_

_Bera watched his retreating figure. The pain in her chest turned to agony. A terrible fear struck her. What if he never turned to look at her again?_

_She could not bear to see him walk away from her. She could not bear to see him make such an expression._

“_J-Julius!” She ran up to him and caught his hand with her own small ones. “Julius!”_

_Her brother stopped and looked down at her with wide eyes. “Bera,” he gasped._

“_I don’t mind if you frighten me,” she said desperately, her eyes blurring with tears. “Just please don’t look so sad. Please don’t walk away from me!” _

_Bera blinked back her tears, struggling to look strong and not weak. But within her, emotions swirled and raged. She felt so weak, so pathetic and young._

_Julius knelt down to her level, his eyes despairing. There was so much sadness in his eyes, eyes which suddenly looked so old. Bera had never noticed it before._

_With her shaking hands, she placed them on either side of his face and kissed his forehead, just as he always did to her when she was upset. It was different to when she kissed him goodnight, for that was a peck on the lips, which was normal in many families._

_She pulled back. “I will try to grow up fast,” she said in a small voice. “So you can tell me what is making you sad. Then you will not have to be so sad by yourself. I will help you, in every way I can.”_

_Julius stared at her, his lips parted slightly and Bera saw the shine of tears within his own eyes. “Do you really mean that, Bera?” He whispered._

_Bera nodded. “So please, please don’t say such things. I will stay beside Julius forev –”_

_She was cut off as Julius pulled her to him, embracing her tightly. His scent enveloped her, and Bera could feel how his body trembled._

“_I will protect you, forever,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “No matter what awaits us in the future, I will always protect you, Bera.”_


	2. Across the Sky Canal

Across the Sky Canal

We watched, tense as the Gladiator glided over the Sky Canal, holding our breath in anticipation. Would he make it? It was a huge gap between the two separate parts of the magnificent floating city in the sky. The upper and lower halves were connected by paths, or with floating platforms that taxied people from one side to the other.

Of course, everyone used those paths or mode of transport, but my friends, as well as myself, wanted to try something a little more exciting.

Surion had removed much of his usual armour to make him lighter for the stupid, adrenaline pumping risk. The golden sunlight reflected against the whiteness of his feathery wings, the wind ruffled his light brown hair.

Beside me, Amia made a strained squealing sound as Surion passed the halfway mark over the Canal. Her grip around my arm tightened and I winced.

“Amia, I’m not going anywhere yet. Don’t grip so tightly!”

The little Cleric blinked and looked down. Seeing how tightly she gripped my arm, she gasped and let go. “Sorry, sorry!” She exclaimed. “I’m just so nervous! Surion –”

“Does not look to be doing too well,” Michael chuckled, running a hand through his dark brown hair.

“Eh?!” Amia turned her attention back to Surion immediately. He was beginning to glide lower than the platform level of the Airship Dock on the other side.

Commotion erupted behind me. Amia panicked and Michael roared with laughter like a fool as Surion’s arms began to flail. I stayed out of it, listening to my friends behind me with amusement and watching Surion with dubious concern.

“Why are you laughing, Michael?” Amia demanded, punching him in the chest because she was too short to whack him around the head. “Surion is going to fall and die at this rate! It’s a long way down to the Water Canal beneath our Sky Canal!”

Michael’s laughter turned into a cough at Amia’s punch. She was stronger than she looked. “Even if he did die, he would just come back at the Obelisk,” Michael wheezed, alternating between laughing and coughing. “Hey, Seregon, give him a gust of wind to help him out.”

The young looking man gave Michael a cold stare from behind his mop of white, spikey hair.

“Why?” He asked dryly. “It was his fault for taking such a dumb gamble in the first place.”

“We’ve _all_ made the bet,” I reminded our cold friend. “You’ll be doing this too.”

Seregon huffed in exasperation and came to stand next to me at the edge. He was about to raise his hands when a natural gush of wind blasted up from the Canal beneath anyway. My shoulder length black hair was blown back from my face, causing me to narrow my emerald eyes against the wind.

To our relief though, Surion’s wings caught the updraft and rode it to the other side. He landed nimbly, turning around and waving with a huge grin plastered across his face. We all cheered in victory. It was possible to glide from the upper to lower half of the city, over the Sky Canal, after all.

It was a pain actually, that the Seraphim Lords did not allow flight in Sanctum, aside from gliding. But the rule did have some good perks. This was one of them. Life as a Daeva sometimes became dull with immortal life, when on leave from the Abyss.

“I’m next,” I said excitedly, dashing back a few steps.

“But what about what Julius said?” Amia asked frantically, grabbing my arm once again. There was worry in her sapphire eyes that gazed at me from behind her full fringe of blond hair.

I smiled mischievously. “It’ll be fine. My brother cannot stop me from doing stupid things like this once in a while. A girl has to do something adventurous sometimes!”

Amia looked dubious. Her hand slid from my arm as I then ran forward.

“Go, go, Bera!” Michael whooped.

I leapt off the edge and out into the open air. The wind rushed up beneath me and I spread my white wings, lines of swirling green light traced their way through my feathers. The updraft caught my wings immediately and my heart soared as I soared, the breath of freedom sighing through my feathers and hair. I smiled in blissful glee. My soul felt as light as the air that I glided in.

No matter how much time passed, I could never stop adoring this wonderful feeling of flying and being with my friends as I was with now. These occasions were too far and few between the others. As Daeva’s, we spent much of our time in the Abyss, fighting Balaur and Asmodians alike. Sometimes the five of us went out as a squad together. Whereas other times, we were separated far from each other.

Our lives were drenched in blood and pain, of fighting and exhaustion. It was never-ending for us immortals. It was tiring.

Therefore when chances like this came along, I jumped at the opportunity. Of course, it still risked my life, but the enjoyment outweighed the fear of pain. I wanted to laugh and smile, for it chased away the sorrows of war, even if it was only temporary.

I glided down, inhaling the sweet air of Elysea and gazing down at the incredible, looming drop below me. My heart rate increased, pumping the adrenaline through my vessels and around my body. It took conscious effort to not tense my muscles too much out of anticipation, or it would hamper my flight skills.

As a Daeva, even if we died, our bodies always materialised once again at an Obelisk. Immortality was a gift, as some people considered it. But it was also a curse. Once a Daeva, always a Daeva – until the end of time itself, or if we were too far from an Obelisk, or unless our spirits were destroyed entirely, like Lord Israphel and Lady Siel.

Unless that happened, we lived on forever.

Despite being a Daeva and having fought for decades, I had yet to die. Ever since I was little, Julius made it clear to me that I could not risk dying. I never really understood why he was so worried about my death in particular, as I would simply materialise again at an Obelisk. However, I could not bear to see the worry in his eyes every time I went to the Abyssal Gates.

A memory flashed through my eyes. Grief tugged my heart.

I blinked back the sudden tears. No matter what, I did not want to make Julius say such a thing to me again. Never did I want him to wear that expression that clawed at my heart. He cared so much. He worried so much.

_I will not die._

Looking ahead, I spotted Surion and aimed for him. His grin only grew wider when he noticed that I would most certainly make it to the Airship Dock. The updraft I caught right at the beginning was a stroke of luck, carrying me higher than I needed to glide.

I angled my body and cut through the air. Surion’s grin vanished as I sped towards him. The metres were eaten up within moments and he jumped to the side to avoid a collision. I lifted my wings up, bringing me to a sharp halt and I flipped. My wings disappeared, and I landed lithely on the ground in a smooth crouch.

“Excellent gliding!” Surion clapped me on the back and I staggered forward into the railing.

“Oof!” I puffed. “You keep doing that! Your little acts of appraisal are stronger than you think.”

Surion placed his hands behind his head. “It’s not my fault you are that thin and light.”

I sighed, knowing it was a lost cause to pursue that point, and stepped back to look up towards Protector’s Hall. It was a marvellous tower, reaching high into the sky above that we already resided in. The buildings of the city were of beautiful white and silvery grey, outlined in shimmering gold that seemingly glowed within the sunlight.

“For a moment, we were afraid you weren’t going to make it across,” I mused.

Surion chuckled. “As was I. Did I worry you?” He cooed.

I punched him in the face without taking my eyes off Michael, Amia and Seregon, earning a startled yelp from Surion as something went crunch.

“Gyaa!” He growled. “You broke my nose!”

“Well you are in luck,” I said flatly. “Amia looks to be coming next.”

I watched the little Cleric kick Michael in the crotch, before running and leaping into the open Sky Canal and spreading her wings, leaving Michael doubled over.

“Michael never learns,” I laughed.

Despite Amia being small, she was a full-grown woman. She had spent decades trying to get Michael to treat her as such, but he did not and enjoyed teasing her instead. It made me wonder who was the one that loved who. Their relationship was built around arguing and fighting, but there was light in their eyes when they did so.

“Who cares about Michael? My nose is broken!”

I rolled my eyes. Amia caught an updraft and rode that down to where we stood. She landed, breathless with excitement, jumping up at down in giddiness. The two of us squealed together in glee, before Surion’s loud groans forced Amia to heal his broken nose.

Michael came down next, and Amia leaned against the railing waving her mace, cursing him to ‘fall to his doom’. He did not. And Seregon soon joined us.

Surion held out his hand. “You all owe me money,” he announced. “Especially you, Seregon. You did not think any of us would make it.”

“It was a ridiculous risk,” he said flatly.

“A _worthwhile_ risk. Now come on. Pay up!”

We groaned and pulled out the agreed value of coins, dumping it into Surion’s eagerly waiting palm.

“Greedy bastard,” I grumbled.

Surion smiled smugly. “I don’t see what the problem is. Julius gets quite the income from being Daeva of Knowledge.”

“You get the same kind of income!” I argued hotly. “And all you do is brandish your greatsword in a flashy display!”

“What are you trying to say?” He asked dangerously.

“She is saying that you are stupid, and that muscle earns more money than brains, for some strange reason,” Seregon said bluntly with brutal honesty.

Surion’s face turned red and stormed over to him when Michael and Amia grabbed the Gladiator’s arms.

“He was joking! Joking!” Amia grunted.

“Let go of me!” Surion roared. “Just one punch!”

Seregon smiled darkly. “After all these years, you have yet to punch or kick me in frustration,” he taunted. The two men were such opposites.

“Oi! You lot! Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused?!”

We all paused at the bellowing shout and turned our attention to the source. Phogus, the Dock Manager, came running towards us, wringing his fist in the air in anger.

“Oh dear,” Michael sang. “It’s Phogus. I suggest we run.”

“Agreed,” we intoned together, and dashed up the stairs towards Elyos Square, chortling to each other at the stupidity and trouble that the five of us always managed to get ourselves into.

Somewhere behind us, we heard Phogus stirring up a racket in his rage.

“Quick! In here!” Michael threw open a golden door that led into the great garden on Sanctum’s east side. We piled through, pushing and shoving, and Michael pushed the golden door shut behind him. It clicked as it locked.

Michael slid down against the door and the rest of us stepped back, breathing out sighs of relief. I sat down.

It made sense that Phogus was furious. Our reckless gliding over the Sky Canal had interfered with the Sky Boats, risking lives and causing general disorganisation and chaos for the crafts and those involved.

In a sense, the five of us were still children. But was that so wrong? Everyone had an inner child within them, the aspect that created and enjoyed fun times, as well as causing the consequences of such actions.

“Michael!” Amia hissed. “This is the garden of the dinosaur!”

Michael flashed his white teeth. “I know. No one can follow us in here.”

“How in Aion’s name did you get the key?” I asked in dismay.

Michael tapped his nose. “Secret.”

“In that case, you are taking the fall for us on this one when we get caught,” Surion said.

“Me? Why me?” Michael demanded.

“You stole the key, dumbass,” Seregon growled. Bickering erupted once again, but I chuckled and leaned back, looking up at the sky through the canopy of leaves. The shimmering pink light of Asmodae flickered high above on the other side of the Tower of Eternity.

I listened to my friends argue and then laugh. It was so light-hearted, so warm and peaceful, despite the war with the Asmodians and Balaur.

Little did I know that this banter, these happy days, had already come to an end.


	3. The Order

The Order  


The five of us stood in a line, enduring the grudging humiliation as Fasimede’s yelled at us like we were children. Seregon’s stern expression did not change, Amia pouted, Michael sighed, Surion looked angry and embarrassed, while I was fairly sure I looked gloomy.

“You five are some of our best Daevas!” Fasimede boomed in criticism. “You are Guardians of Sanctum, the role models of the Elyos, and yet time after time again, the five of you do something as stupid and as dumb as this. It is a disgrace! You are like children! Have you forgotten the oath you all took when you ascended?”

Fasimede’s lecture went in through one ear and out the other. We had heard this so many times before. While I truly despised being disciplined in such a humiliating way, it was also entertaining as well. It added some spark of life to our long and dark lives. And the idiotic fun that we had was worth it.

“As punishment, you will be assigned to the frontlines of the Abyss against the Balaur.”

Our jaws dropped. “Frontlines?!”

Maybe it was not worth it after all. The frontlines would not have been too surprising if we were ordinary Daevas, but it was not often a Guardian took to the frontlines. It was _beneath _us, as some would put it.

“There is an armada of Dredgion battleships on course for Teminon Landing –”

“_What?!”_

The five of us stared at each other, for we all exclaimed in unison. The horror of this news was clear in the eyes of my friends. The horror of this news pounded in my heart with a sudden peak in terror.

“Will you let me finish, for Aion’s sake?” Fasimede snapped.

“Our apologies, Lord Fasimede,” we mumbled together. I struggled to keep the rising panic and shock of the situation from affecting me too much. As an Assassin, I was supposed to keep my head cool.

Fasimede cleared his throat and continued. “As I just said, an armada of Dredgion battleships are set on attacking Teminon Landing. The Landing has been able to withstand attacks before, easily, but this time it will be different. The Aetheric Field that surrounds it is not strong enough to repel such a hoard of attacks simultaneously.”

“When will they arrive?” Seregon pressed, his voice tight.

“Within a couple of days.”

“How have we not heard about this?” Michael asked in dismay.

“At first, it was not an armada,” Fasimede said grudgingly. “We sent Daevas out to intercept them, but the Balaur have become smarter, as well stronger with determination. What was once a small fleet of battleships a few months ago, has now grown to be an armada.”

“How are we supposed to deflect this in just a few days?” Surion growled. “That is nowhere near enough time to mobilise our troops and create defensive rings, let alone reinforce Teminon’s localised defences.”

I stared at the white marble floor. Surion had an extremely valid point. If the Balaur armada was going to arrive at Teminon Landing in just a few days, then that meant they had already bypassed two of the defensive rings that would have been in place. There were just two more left. Even if Surion did scramble his forces to reinforce their defences, it would only buy them a few more days.

_There isn’t enough time!_

“That isn’t the only possible problem,” Amia said. “What if the Asmodians decide to attack? It is the perfect opportunity for them to strike us at the heart.”

Fasimede shook his head. “We don’t need to worry about that. Reports say that the Asmodians are facing a similar crisis.”

Surion huffed. “Well, I guess that’s some kind of comfort for us.”

“Tomorrow, all five of you will leave for Teminon Landing and take command of the situation. You will be the ones to repel this attack.”

We exchanged confused glances.

“We embarrass ourselves and the image and pride of the Elyos,” Seregon said slowly. “And yet you want us to take such a responsibility as punishment? Duties like this would be an _honour_, even for the older Guardians, not a punishment.”

Fasimede snorted with a chuckle. “If you perform well, then the glory would clear your names of the terrible reputation you have accumulated over the years. If you fail, well, it is the opposite, isn’t it?” It was not a question. My palms went cold.

The Governor of Sanctum waved his hand to dismiss us. “I suggest you go home and rest well tonight. You will leave at first light.”

“Yes, Lord Fasimede,” we murmured, crossing our hand over our hearts and bowing. “But not you, Beralin.”

I paused and glanced up at him.

“There is something else I must discuss with you,” he said.

I cast a look at my friends as they left. Amia smiled sadly at me as she left the office with the others. I found that I could not smile back, not when my body trembled internally with growing fear and nervousness of the situation at hand.

Soon enough, it was just me who stood before Fasimede’s desk and his great throne of a chair.

“What did you wish to discuss with me, my Lord?” I asked courteously.

He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the beautiful desk. “As one of our master Assassins, your role tomorrow will be slightly different to the others.”

I felt my heart sink, as always, but I hardened my spirit and set my expression into its usual, impassive mask. Every mission, I tended to dread, therefore I had developed a dark and shadowed side to my personality. One that protected me from the horrors that I saw and of the death I delivered unto my victims.

An emotionless killer who wore a cloak of despair from those I had killed – as well as my own despair . . .

“I want you to infiltrate the flagship and take it down.”

I stood in silence, letting Fasimede’s command ring in the air. My heart sank.

It was such a huge responsibility, such a huge task. A suicide mission.

“I know it is a lot to ask, but you are best suited for the task, especially after the last incident.”

_The Divine Fortress,_ I thought silently. It was an incident that occurred decades back – the Balaur had conquered it, and I took it back. Not alone, but I did something . . .

A sharp pain split my skull and I winced, pressing a hand to my temple. Memories . . . nightmares . . . fragmented, flitted through my mind.

Lines . . . there were green lines of light –

“Forgive me, Lady Atherton,” Fasimede said, his tone now more humble compared to earlier. “I have made you recall the final moments of that battle.”

Indeed – I had lost my memory of the deciding factor of that battle. But whatever happened . . . whatever I did, had earned the Elyos a sound victory against the Balaur. I could only remember waking up in bed to find Julius sitting close by, asleep and with bags under his eyes from staying awake too long.

I lowered my hand from my head. “It is fine, Lord Fasimede,” I said quietly. “I will do as you command, for your will is also the will of the Seraphim Lords. If you will excuse me, I will take my leave to prepare.”

Fasimede rose this time and exchanged a bow as I did. My pale fingers curled around the doorknob.

“Lady Atherton,” Fasimede sighed, causing me to turn around. “Do understand that I do this in order to keep your family name as prestigious as it always has been. But also so it brings some pride back to Lord Atherton. Must you make it so difficult for him?” He said softly. “As some of the rare Purebloods, you and he are looked to as role models and for leadership. I respect Lord Atherton greatly.”

I looked away and smiled faintly. “Lord Atherton is not exactly the image of a Pureblood.” I chuckled softly, thinking of his plain face, glasses, bland clothing and often messy hair.

“It is not always just about appearances.”

“True,” I agreed, and the exhaled softly. “No matter what I do, Lord Atherton will always be held in high regard. His personality is too likeable to be corrupted by my stupidity.”

“Will you not stop socialising with the other four Guardians? Right from the beginning, I have known that you are not a stupid person – excuse my comment.” Fasimede said.

I shook my head and held up my hand, indicating that I was not offended. “We are Daevas, Lord Fasimede, destined to live forever and fight against the Balaur and Asmodians – unable to die. We live in the Abyss, constantly fighting and plagued by darkness and death. That, along with time, is sure to drive us immortals insane, unless we have something that brings a light to our shadowed lives. Therefore forgive my stupidity and my friends, but it is an attempt to keep the horrors of war at bay.”

“I understand your words, Lady Atherton. But you must remember that you are Guardians, protectors of Sanctum and Elysea.”

“Yes, I understand,” I breathed with another slight chuckle. “Our duty comes first. Good day to you, Lord Fasimede.”

I pulled the door open. “Good day to you, Lady Atherton.” He bowed behind me and I left.

As I waited for the elevating platform to arrive at the top of Protector’s Hall, I fell into my thoughts.

_Purebloods . . ._

They were a bloodline that was directly descended from some of the very first Daevas before the Cataclysm. Those Daevas reproduced and their children were born as ascended Daevas. Then those born Daevas reproduced with other born Daevas, and their children were also born as ascended Daevas. Therefore a Pureblood’s line was untainted by human blood.

Purebloods were always rare though, and rarer now over the centuries that had passed. Many often intermarried to keep the bloodline pure and their powers strong.

_That is another thing. The powers of a Pureblood are stronger than that of an ordinary Daeva, _I reminded myself. _All Purebloods are Guardians, and Archons with the Asmodians._

The platform arrived and I stepped onto it. A few others did as well, and we rode the platform back down to Artisan’s Hall underneath. The place buzzed with life and the racket of crafting. It was a beautiful place though, like everywhere else in Sanctum. The ceiling was high, and the walls were smooth and elegantly carved with white marble, outlined in gold.

I walked through the Daevas that hurried from one place to the next, few took note of my presence, which was best, and I made my way to the Divine Road outside the chaos of the Hall.

Once outside, I breathed a sigh of relief and gazed up at the sky. The sun was setting, outlining the white clouds in glimmering gold. The Divine Road was elegantly paved with clean, pale tiles. Blossom trees sprouted through the middle of the road from their compost, dividing the road into two sides, and their sweet scent perfumed the air.

_Julius sat Bera on the bench beneath the forever blooming blossom tree. Bera watched curiously as he picked a small bunch of pale blossoms from a low branch. He threaded them into her hair._

“_There,” he said with satisfaction. “You look beautiful, Bera, like a bride.”_

_Bera smiled widely. “Can I see?”_

“_Alright.” Julius moved his palm in a circle and Bera watched in fascination as water traced his palm. It took on a reflective sheen and Bera found herself staring at her reflection. A little girl with big green eyes gazed back. Her pale face was framed by long, black, ringlet hair. The pink blossoms seemingly glowed against the darkness of her hair._

_Bera beamed. Right then and there, blossoms became her favourite flower. Its sweet scent was introduced to her by Julius and she associated the smell with him._

_Julius turned around and bent at the knees. “Come on then, Bera,” he said lightly. “Let’s go back to show them.”_

_Bera hopped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders while he took her legs._

“_Do you think I’m pretty enough to be Julius’s bride?” Bera asked eagerly, resting her head against him as he walked. She felt so safe and warm when with him. She wanted to be with him forever._

“_I think you are pretty enough to be anyone’s bride, Bera.”_

_Bera shook her head, closing her eyes and smiling sleepily. “I want to be Julius’s bride. Mama and Papa are cousins, so we can be something like that.”_

I reached up to a low branch, gently pulling it down and sniffed the flower. Its perfume sent happiness and warmth through my blood, recalling Julius’s kind smile and soft laughter. I had been four at the time, and Julius was fourteen.

Not too long after that, our parents were killed.

How? I could not recall, for I had no memory of the incident. It was like a great blackness in that part of my memory.

It was strange, and not everything added up. Julius and I were half siblings, not true siblings, yet we lived with the same parents. Though . . . when I began to think of our mother and father, I had realised that Julius did not look like either of them, just as I had no features from my father.

For certain though, I knew I was a daughter of Sophie Atherton, for I had her hair. And Julius and I definitely shared a same parent, for that parent had given us the same emerald eyes.

Who that was though, I knew not.

I walked on to the Library of Sages, which Julius was in charge of in its entirety, thinking of my words back then.

“_I want to be Julius’s bride.”_

It was a lovely thought at the time, for I was young and innocent. Intermarriage was normal amongst the Purebloods but . . . for others, it was considered beastly, almost.

Did I still want that? Did I love him like that?

I was not sure. But there was one thing that did not change over the decades. I wanted to stay beside Julius for eternity.


	4. A Dream

A Dream  


I walked down the hallway steps to the Library of Sages, feeling the buzz of the city fall behind me. The Library always felt different to everywhere else in the city. It seemed like no matter the time of day or the current situation, the Library was always calm and peaceful.

It was my favourite place. The smell of books greeted my sinuses, the small murmur of soft voices and ruffle of pages trickled into my ears. A desire to sit down in a corner of the Library and read a book, bubbled up through my chest.

Julius was the one who taught me to appreciate books and old knowledge. He was the one who taught me to value the words written with care on each page and to listen to the voices of writers and authors long gone.

I exhaled softly with a faint smile. He would not be happy to hear of what I had to do tomorrow. He would be angry, very angry.

My feet stepped on horizontally flat ground as I entered the Library proper. The main hall was circular with high domed ceilings, and a balcony ringed the edges above me, indicating that there was another level to the Library above. The structure of the Library was like everywhere else in Sanctum, composed of pale white and grey tiles and paving, constructed in elegant sweeps and turns.

Bookshelves upon shelves lined the Library. Librarians walked in and out of the various different halls with arms and trolleys of books, ferrying the precious knowledge from one place to the other with care.

At the ringed front desk, there was no one – as usual. In front of that though was an altar upon which a massive tome sat open. Its pages were browned and faded with age, and Fuchsia, the Library’s Walking Encyclopaedia, stood before it with another book in hand, busy flipping through pages and referencing.

She was a woman who loved knowledge with a passion, always busy going about the library. It made me wonder how she could always look so tidy and elegant. Her long black hair was neatly combed and her white silk dress was free of stains and always looked clean.

I tapped her on the shoulder.

“Mm?” Was her reply as she turned around, her eyes lingering for a second longer on the page before they met mine. “Ah! Bera!”

I smiled in greeting. “Fuchsia. I see you are busy reading and referencing as always.”

She laughed. “Learning is a never ending process. I came here over five hundred years ago and I still feel like I know so little compared to Julius!”

In the Library, Julius discarded his Pureblood name and had everyone call him Julius. Here, he was a librarian like everyone else.

“Your brother’s knowledge is incredible,” Fuchsia went on with a dreamy sigh, before she then blinked, dragging herself back to reality. “Are you here for him?”

I nodded.

“I’m afraid you will have to wait for a little while,” she said, looking about her. “He’s in the lower levels.”

I smiled. “That’s fine. I will wait for him in his office if you don’t mind.”

“If I don’t mind?” She scoffed. “Please, you are one of us. Now go, go! I must finish this referencing!”

I chuckled as she shooed me away. I smiled as I passed librarians on the way to Julius’s office, and they smiled in return with warmth. Everyone in the Library knew each other, as did I. It was always nice here, because it felt very much like a family.

It did not take me long to navigate my way to Julius’s office as I knew the way. But as the overruling Sage of the Library, his office was buried deep within. There were magical wards around it, and for good reason, as his office contained many valuable tomes and books. He had to be here himself to create a break within them to allow someone else in.

But I placed my hand over the doorknob and stepped in. Glyphs and sigils flashed in the air as his wards let me through, recognising my Daevic signature. Only I could step through his wards without having something backfire on me. It was not because of my profession as an Assassin, but because he only allowed me through and no other. No doubt Julius would have felt it, knowing that I was now here.

It made my heart pound in an interesting rhythm just thinking about it, causing me to stand against the door with my hand over my heart, feeling my face redden. The door clicked behind me and I rested my head back against it, closing my eyes briefly.

Everything he did was so subtle, but it all revolved around protecting me. I never really understood that until I had matured quite a bit. Even now, I still did not completely understand why he went through such lengths to show just how much I was valued and his desire to protect.

It was impossible to not be touched by that. And I returned it with my own loyalty and care. But even then, I still did something stupid to force him to make such sorrowful expressions, like a time long ago, when the Holy Templar knocked on our door.

Pain squeezed my chest and I sighed softly. He was everything to me. I wished to protect him more than anything.

I stepped away from the door and towards Julius’s desk. There were no windows in his large office as it was deep within the depths of Sanctum’s upper city. His office was not a tidy place either. Books and sagas of various sizes lay in stacks on the floor when the bookshelves became too full. His desk was covered in paper, but it was not in a mess like what most people would expect. This was a tidy mess.

At his desk, I sat down in his chair and let the silence of his office hang over me. The steady tick of the clock was the only sound. It was only after I saw down when I realised how tired I was. Life was tiring, whether it was good or bad.

My eyes landed on something that I always looked at when I was in his office. It was a small picture frame with a picture of the two of us inside. The technology of Atreia enabled many things to come into fruition. Such little pictures were one of them. But paintings were still used more often.

In the picture, I was ten and Julius was twenty. I held his hand, wearing a bright smile. Julius’s expression was a mixture of good humour and curiosity, as the picture had caught a moment where I had forced Julius to lean sideways so he was closer to my level. I had wanted to whisper something in his ear.

“_Let’s do this again in another ten years’ time! I will be a woman then, so I can stand next to you as your equal!”_

I chuckled softly to myself. When that time came, I was busy with other things, and so was he. We had a portrait done a decade later, and it always made the same thoughts cross my mind again, thoughts which I tried to keep quiet as I was not entirely sure how to deal with them.

With a small breath, I rested the side of my head on my forearm and gazed at the picture in my other hand. They were of happy times where it was just the two of us. Even if our parents were still alive, it would not have made a difference as Julius was the only person in my world.

It was still just the two of us, but our times together were scarce with our duties are Guardians of Elysea. Most of my time was either in the Abyss, or in other areas of Elysea repelling servants of the Balaur.

The Balaur . . .

My eyes closed and I took a deep breath to calm my pounding heart. It was impossible to not feel the building anticipation and terror of the impending attack of the Dredgion armada.

Yet despite that, sleep quickly found me and wrapped me in its arms without my consent.

“_Bring him back to me, Bera!” Sophie shrieked, shaking the little girl’s shoulders. Her mother’s grip hurt Bera’s arms and her voice struck fear in Bera’s heart. She could not see things clearly for some reason. Everything was slightly blurred. But her mother’s voice, her painful grip, was as clear as crystal. _

“_Mama?” She whimpered. “It hurts.”_

_Her mother’s voice was wavering with hysteria as it became plagued with something that was no longer logic. The grievous smile on Sophie’s face was one of growing madness._

“_Ever since that night, he left me. And you are all that remains, the proof that he exists! Tell him to come back!” She shook harder and Bera began to cry._

“_Mama! Let go! It hurts!”_

_A figure towered behind Sophie and relief exploded in Bera’s chest. “Papa!”_

_She was met by a hand across her face as the other hand pulled Sophie back. _

“_Do not call me your father, girl of an unknown man!” He boomed in rage._

_The slap threw Bera to the floor, as if she were a bug. Bera gasped, pressing one hand against her burning cheek and she stared, wide-eyed, at her Papa. What . . . what was he talking about? He was her father. He always smiled at her with warmth and kindness._

“_You are no daughter of mine.”_

_His words were a knife though her heart._

_Bera did not understand what was happening. What was going on? Why was her Mama shrieking at her to bring someone back? Why had her Papa turned against her?_

_Confusion, pain, fear and heartbreak warred through her small heart. This was wrong. Why was this happening? What went so wrong?_

_Another figure emerged into Bera’s peripheral vision. He was crystal clear, unlike everything else._

_He picked her up into his arms immediately. “What are you doing?” He hissed in fury._

“_You,” her father snarled. “You are not one of us at all!”_

_Sophie’s warped smile widened upon seeing him. The tears continued to run down her face. “Julius,” she breathed. “You are his son as well. Tell him to come back.”_

“_Sophie!” Sophie’s husband shouted, gripping her arms. “What has gotten into you?!”_

“_I just want to see him again, one more time!”_

_Julius’s grip on Bera tightened. She wanted it to stop. Their raised voices rang in her ears. The hectic emotions roared around her. She shivered violently and her breath came in ragged gasps._

_She wanted it to stop!_

_Through her tears and blurred eyes, she saw something else. It looked to be lines, glowing green lines, in the space of the air itself. It was wrapped around everything, moulding to its shape, and crisscrossed the air._

_It shifted with the emotional chaos. The lines in the air began to change shape, dipping and curving into a circular pattern. Bera’s sobs stopped and she stared while her parents and brother shouted._

“_There are green lines, Julius,” Bera whispered. “Line of green light.”_

_Despite the roar of noise in the room, Julius cut off midway and Bera felt his body stiffen immediately. He pulled away slightly so she could see his face. His eyes widened as horror set into his expression._

“_Close your eyes, Bera!”_

“_What?” The circular pattern of green lines seemed to pull apart, as if the space of reality was being thinned and then torn. A swirling, glowing light leaked out into its place. The magical energy of the room fluctuated violently._

_Julius set her on her feet and placed both of his hands on either side of her face firmly, locking her gaze with his so she could not see the strange light behind him. His eyes began to glow._

“_Close your eyes, Bera,” he commanded, his voice taking on a strange, ethereal effect, as if there were two voices combined together. _

_Despite all the confusion and chaos, he smiled faintly. That one smile, calmed Bera’s turbulent heart and mind._

“_Close your eyes, Bera. And do not open them until I say so.”_

“. . . ra . . . Bera . . .”

A gentle touch pressed against my arm. “Wake up, Bera.”

Wake up? _I’m asleep? _I thought groggily. _I did not intend to sleep._ Since when did I fall asleep? It was not exactly comfortable either.

I remembered where I was. Julius’s office, in his chair and over his desk. No wonder it was uncomfortable. With that reminder, I sat bolt upright.

“I’m not asleep!”

That comment was met by a chuckle. Julius stood close by in his usual attire, simple, but enough to show that he was of Daevic or aristocratic standing. He still wore his glasses and held a book in one hand. The other hand, he used to press my arm.

His expression was kind as always, with some shorter strands of his long blond hair brushing across his eyes. Down his back his hair was kept plaited, something which I enjoyed combing and plaiting when I had time.

This was my lovely half-brother.

“Not asleep?” He said with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you sprawled over my desk then? You even knocked a stack of my books over.”

I flinched and looked over the side. Indeed, my arm had pushed them over.

“Whoops,” I said sheepishly, getting up and moving towards them. “Sorry.” I went down on my knees and picked the books back up again with lithe hands.

“How long was I asleep for?”

“Not long.”

I paused and glanced up at him dubiously as he finished up with some last minute paperwork. “Your ‘not long’s are ‘big long’s for me.”

He smiled slightly. “It is nine. You have been here for barely an hour and a half.”

I groaned in frustration nonetheless. I could have done a lot of stuff within that hour and a half – mentally. Such as planning on how on earth I was supposed to get into the flagship of the Dedgion armada.

“Damn, that dream was longer than I expected,” I grumbled, putting his books back on his desk.

“What dream?” He asked, quickly scribbling some things down on some paper.

I frowned in thought. _Green lines of light, lines that seemed to hold the space of reality itself together. Mother and father were in that dream . . . that nightmare._ It was the first time I had ever dreamt of them, and it was not a nice one.

My heart throbbed, feeling the echo of what I felt in the dream. I must have been, four? Four years old, because that was the year they both died.

Sophie’s words made goose bumps rise on my skin, and my father’s words were like a knife through the heart.

“_Ever since that night, he left me. And you are all that remains, the proof that he exists!”_

My jaw clenched. I knew that Sophie’s husband was not my father. No one had ever proved it, but it was obvious in many cases. I did not share his blood as father and daughter, and he knew that.

That dream had been more like a memory than a nightmare.

Yet, I could not remember such an event in my past. Such a traumatic incident never happened . . . right?

“Bera?”

I blinked and looked up. “Nothing,” I lied with an awkward smile. “Just something to do with work again. Were you translating some ancient texts in the lower levels?” I changed the subject as he finished, letting me step out of his office first before he then followed and locked it behind him. We walked back through the Library together.

He nodded. “We managed to uncover more documents hidden in the Library from a couple hundred years ago before the Cataclysm. There is some interesting information within our ancient language.”

I grinned. “But you cannot tell me.”

He shrugged with a light smile. “I’m afraid so.”

We bid goodnight to those on nightshift in the Library and began our walk down to the lower level of the city, heading for the teleporter. I needed to think about that dream. Telling Julius did not feel too . . . wise, at the current moment. There was something sorely wrong with that dream. It felt strange.

And nostalgic.

But now was not the time to think of dreams and muddled memories. There was something much more severe that needed my attention.

The Dredgion armada.

Sanctum was buzzing softly with nightlife. All the lamps were alight with energy or fire, casting gentle, illuminating light throughout the city. The air was comfortably cool. It was peaceful.

Something which the Balaur threatened constantly, and now more than ever.

“Julius,” I sighed in the end. “There is something I need to tell you.” I never liked keeping things from him. Even if I knew it would anger him, I would tell him as I did not want secrets to keep our relationship apart.

Julius glanced down at me and I saw his expression fall slightly. “You did something stupid again.” It was not a question. He knew every time.

I looked down and nodded guiltily. “But that isn’t the important part.”

It was Julius’s turn to sigh. “Just start from the beginning. It will give me the full picture.”

“Very well,” I said, keeping my voice calm and gentle, like his. “Surion, Amia, Seregon, Michael and I made a bet to see if we could fly over the Sky Canal, from the path outside Protector’s Hall to the Airship Dock.”

Julius’s shoulders sank and I sensed his stirring anger. It was the same every time. Just as he could read me so well, I could also read him just as well . . . almost.

“We made it across, but of course, we got into trouble for disrupting the Sky Boats, as well as risking lives, including our own,” I said. We stepped onto the floating platform that would take us to the other side. “Lord Fasimede called us before him and gave us the usual lecture.”

Julius exhaled deeply. “And what was the punishment this time.”

I turned my gaze to the clear night sky, watching the pink lights of Asmodae flicker, feeling my heart sink. “It is not really a punishment. We were given the duty because we happened to catch Lord Fasimede’s eyes at the wrong time. As Guardians, it is our duty to take up the role he has assigned us all.”

Julius looked at me, not prompting me to hurry up and say it, but the impatience was growing in his eyes.

“There is an armada of Dredgion battleships on course for Teminon Landing,” I finally said in a quiet voice. “We have been assigned to command the resistance to repel the attack. The five of us will leave tomorrow morning at dawn.”


	5. The Daevas Who Can Die

The Daevas Who Can Die  


“_What?!_”

I cringed. It was the first time I had heard Julius raise his voice in decades. It rang with disbelief and anger. Those around us also stopped what they were doing to stare in dismay. Julius was never the type to lose his temper, especially not in front of others.

Despite my quickly pounding heart that beat with fear at his anger, I stood my ground. I had to show others that were watching that I was Julius’s equal.

“Yes,” I said, my voice tight. “It will be announced to the other Daevas after we leave. I am not lying to make you angry, Julius.”

His jaw clenched. “You may as well have done so,” he said harshly, grabbing my wrist and a circle of glowing glyphs flashed into being on the flood around us. I sucked in a startled breath, automatically preparing my body for Julius’s very quick teleportation. Watery blue light rippled around us, engulfing us in its pillar and our surroundings began to fade, being replaced with something just as familiar – Julius’s study in his mansion.

He released his grip on my wrist and I stepped back, while he leaned against his desk.

“An armada?!” He continued, his hands curling into fists. “Why has none of this been mentioned to anyone yet?”

“We asked Lord Fasimede the same thing,” I said, my voice sounding hoarse in an attempt to keep this from turning into a full-blown argument. “He sent other Daevas to intercept them but the Balaur have become stronger and more intelligent. They repelled every attempt to stop them, and now it is the armada that threatens both Elysea and Asmodae.”

Julius tsked under his breath. “Typical Fasimede. Not wanting to admit his miscalculation despite the severity of the situation. And the Seraphim Lords are no better.”

“Julius!” I gasped, reaching out to him. “This is not like you.”

He shot me a searing glare, halting me in my place. That glare was like a slap. _He hates me,_ I thought in terrible grief. _He is always so patient with me, bearing with all my stupidity, but I never learn._

“How close is the armada to Teminon?”

I swallowed, for my mouth had dried with the sudden emotions that were twisting through my heart. _Please don’t hate me, Julius. _

“They’ve passed the outer two defensive rings,” I croaked. “Surion will mobilise the remaining three as fast as he can.”

“But at this rate, they will be here within a couple of days!”

I had nothing to say to that for I already knew, but hearing Julius say it out loud with such certainty only increased the fear I had for the mission that was set for me, because his comment hit home. Once again, the pressure of what Fasimede ordered me to do weighed heavily down on my shoulders.

Julius’s burning green eyes fixed mine. “What is your purpose in this?”

_No secrets._ I took a deep breath. “I have been assigned to infiltrate the flagship and assassinate their commander.”

There was a beat of silence.

“No.”

I tensed. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I said NO!” His voice cracked out with a telekinetic wave, enough to make the room shake and I felt my face pale more than usual.

No? But I was assigned to this responsibility. I had to take down the flagship. If not, then Surion and the others would bear the direct brunt of the Balaur attack. And what if . . . what if they failed too?

I could not allow that. I had to try – everything!

“Why?” I demanded. “As a master Assassin, I am capable of this role. It is a suicide mission, I know! But we are Daevas, Julius! Nothing can kill us entirely, especially as we are Purebloods. Even if I die then I will materialise again at the closest Obelisk! Why are so afraid of my death experience? Are you willing to risk a chance of our success against repelling this attack, simply because you don’t want me to experience my first death?”

“It is not as simple as that,” Julius hissed.

“Then what is it?! I keep nothing from you and yet after all these decades, I know you still keep secrets from me.” I blinked back the tears that began to sting my eyes. “Julius, _tell me_ what constantly bothers you. I know no one else can see it, but I can. Death is just one of these factors that plague you. Why is it not simple? What can be simpler?!”

“Because we are not ordinary Daevas!”

I must have blinked and missed it, because before I knew it, Julius had me pinned against the wall, his hands gripped my arms painfully. Startled, I blinked. How did he move that fast without me seeing? Archers and Assassins were the fastest people in the world. No one could move faster. So how in Aion’s name did Julius move faster than what I could follow? He was a Sorcerer, not an Assassin or Archer.

“The two of us are different to every other Daeva in this world.” Julius said very carefully, his voice like steel. “Yes, we are more powerful than the rest, but our downfall is that when we die, we die for good. Once dead, we do not come back!”

I stared at him as he loomed above me. His face was close enough that I could kiss him if I stood on my tip toes. My brain slowly processed his words.

“W-what?” I stammered. “What are you saying? Of course we come back . . . right?”

He held my eyes. His gaze saw straight through me, pierced my heart and soul. Only he could look at me like that, with eyes that stripped every sort of armour and defence I had so that only my core remained in his eyes. It was as if I stood naked before him.

In the end, he looked away, his expression distorting into one of constrained grief . . . and hate. His grip tightened further and I winced. And then his hands slipped from my arms and he turned away, walking from his office and leaving me behind, alone.

I slumped down against the wall, letting the silence ring in my ears as the shock sank in. My arms throbbed where he held them.

That was my first argument with Julius.

It scarred me, and it was a scar that could not be healed anytime soon.

Julius and I never fought. Neither of us were people who would lose our tempers as we both had patience. But this time, we both lost our temper, and this was the result. I did not realise that the tears were running silently down my cheeks.

Was this my fault? Did I anger and upset Julius to the point that he lost his temper with me?

_Why? Why do I never learn? _My mind whispered, bringing my hand up to cover my face in shame and guilt. I tried so hard to ensure that Julius never had to wear that expression of grief again. But I made him wear that expression far too often with my own goofing around with the others. I was the one who forced him to lose his temper.

I sniffed, brushing away my falling tears with the back of my hands.

“_Once dead, we do not come back!”_

Julius’s words reverberated through my being and I stared at the ground through blurred eyes, listening to his voice over and over in my head, letting his words sink further in. Each time, it cut deeper.

Was that why he drilled it into my head from such an early stage that I must not die? Because once I died then I was gone for good?

But I was a Daeva. Daevas materialised again after death. We could never die completely. So what was Julius saying? That if I died once, then I was dead forever? Like a human? Was it to do with the blood that ran in my Veins? The blood of a Pureblood.

The thought was . . . impossible. Because that meant that I was not a Daeva!

I shook my head vigorously. _No. I have wings, and I am immortal. Everything is the same! Except for death._

As a Daeva, I risked my life everyday fighting the Balaur and Asmodians. Every day, I came face to face with death, yet not once had I died. To think that if I died, I was gone for good . . .

I shivered, wrapping my arms about me as the horror of it sunk in.

_Julius must be lying._ It had to be an attempt to scare me into not carrying out my mission tomorrow.

However, Julius never lied. Not once had he ever lied to anyone, and especially not to me. If the truth was asked for, he gave one the truth, no matter how brutal or harsh. Usually though he would try to avoid it so feelings were not hurt. But he would even tell me when my dress did not suit me, or if my backside looked too big when I asked for his opinion. That of course, earned him a whack around the head from me, but I asked, and he gave me an answer.

From ever since I could remember, he ensured that I understood with perfect clarity that I must not die, even though I am a Daeva. He ensured I trained well so I could avoid such incidents where I could lose my life. The worry and fear that was in his eyes, hidden and concealed, every time I went to the Abyss or returned from it, was also not a lie.

I brought in a halting breath, feeling the realisation sink in along with confusion. My first death, would also be my last.

But it was not just me.

“_The two of us are different to every other Daeva in this world.”_

The same applied to him. He had never died before either. I knew that he was powerful enough to avoid such situations, but on the rare occasions when he was sent into the Abyss, I told him the same thing he always said to me.

“_Please be careful. Don’t . . . don’t die . . .”_

If Julius died, then he was also gone forever.

Crushing agony split my heart and I hunched over with a grunt, pressing my hands to my chest in an attempt to ease the pain. I wanted to scream.

I suddenly realised how Julius felt.

My eyes turned to the ceiling, staring at it in dismay. _All these decades, he has felt like this? All this time, he has had to endure this crushing agony, wondering if I would die on the current mission. All this time, I never knew!_

Looking towards the door, I recalled Julius’s expression. Grief and hate. The hate of my ignorance, and the sorrow of suffering the knowledge alone.

I squeezed my eyes shut. “How could I be so blind?”

For a long time I sat there, listening to the tick of the clock, feeling a surge of emotions sweep through my heart and spirit in accordance with the thoughts I thought. This day had begun jolly and light hearted. Now, it ended in ruin.

I did not know how much time had passed, but my tears had long stopped and in the end, I sighed in misery. Even after experiencing Julius’s wrath, I wanted to see him. No matter what, I could not get over my desire to be near him.

But if I did, what would happen? He did not want me to go in the morning. That voice, that command, was absolute. I wished more than anything that I could obey it, because I could not deny the terror in my heart for what I had to do. But when Atreia called, its protectors had to answer, whether we wanted to or not.

Could I convince Julius to let me go?

I put myself in his shoes, imaged that our roles were reversed. Soon enough, I realised that that the outcome was the same. It was almost impossible to let him go.

With a small breath, I stood up and walked out into the hallway. It was dark, and silently I moved towards Julius’s quarters. Some of the lights were on, but not many, casting long shadows in the corners and along the walls.

Yet I did not go in, and stood in the shadows of the hallway, feeling my shoulders fall slightly. It was not going to be simple. I would never let him leave if our positions were reversed. I was selfish, so selfish.

Julius was no different.

I bit on my lower lip to stop it from trembling, and turned away, walking in the direction of one of my studies. One was for creating poisons and potions of varying kinds. The other was for theory work. I drifted to my laboratory. Automatically, glowing orbs of energy illuminated the room upon my entry.

With a sinking heart, my eyes scanned the shelves and found what they were looking for. I picked up a small and shallow tin, twisting the lid off. Inside was a slightly oily, jelly-like substance. It was similar to lipstick, or another kind of make-up that went across the lips to keep them moist and with a full volume appearance.

This did a similar job, keeping my lips moist and soft, but this was also a poison. As an Assassin, my body was trained to become resistance to most – if not all – poisons and curses. Those that did affect us, we were able to cure with our knowledge.

I circled my finger over the gel and then ran it along my lips. It was not a lethal poison, and this was the only way I was going to be able to make it work. But my heart continued to the thump hard in my chest, and the lump in my throat that came with crying, did not go away as guilt continued to weigh greatly on my spirit.

My feet felt like iron as I exited my laboratory and headed back to Julius’s quarters. Julius was not someone who was supposed to wear such expressions of grief and loneliness. He was a man who smiled at all with gentle kindness. So why did I do something that always made him wear and expression that tore at my heart?

His quarters were deserted, and so I went to the final room. The door to his bedroom was ajar, and dim, flickering light seeped out. I stood on the other side in silence, looking down in shame. With all my heart, I wanted to apologise to him.

“Julius.” I knocked on the door.

There was no answer and I sighed softly, hearing my pulse in my ears. Gathering my courage, I slipped in through the gap and into his bedroom.

Julius sat on the floor with his back against the side of the double bed. He was in only his trouser which he usually slept in, leaving him shirtless. It always amazed me how he was able to stay so fit when he did not do the same training that Rangers or Warriors had to do. I guess his other training gave similar results, with a lean and well-muscled body.

A towel was around his shoulders and he hung his head. His long blond hair was wet, hiding his face. He did not respond to my presence.

My expression fell upon seeing him. “Julius,” I said softly, stepping over to him lightly and I went down onto my knees, taking his towel. “At least dry your hair.”

Julius did not object as I dried his hair, neither did he look up at me. His gaze was empty and quiet. My heart ached with guilt, and so many other things.

“Julius,” I whispered, dropping the towel and placing my hand against his cheek gently. “I am sorry, sorry for not understanding what you have felt all these years.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Even though you have told me something that is so difficult to accept, I still will because I believe in you.” I tilted his face so his eyes met mine. “Trust in me as I trust in you, Julius.”

He gazed at me for a long time, capturing me in those deep emerald irises, when it was supposed to have been the other way around – I became lost in his eyes. Julius raised his hand to the base of my neck, and his long fingers brushed against my skin delicately. Yet where he touched, my skin felt as hot as fire.

Julius’s eyes lowered to the necklace that was around my neck and let it rest against his fingers. The emerald gem was the promised necklace, before the Miragent’s Holy Templar demanded that Julius hand me over to the Seraphim Lords as the _Key_. The memory of that day sent my mind and heart aching.

“Do you remember the promise you made on this necklace?” He asked quietly.

“Yes,” I said solemnly.

“You promised on this necklace that you would never die,” he murmured.

I took his hand. “And I will keep that promise,” I whispered. He looked back across at me, his expression unreadable.

“Lord Fasimede has unknowingly sentenced you to death.”

Sadness swept through my expression. He would not let this go.

“I am a Guardian, Julius. I must go, and as a Guardian yourself, you must understand.”

He slipped his hand from mine and closed his eyes. “But I also understand that if you die, then you leave me forever.” His voice was barely audible, but the pain was evident. “I can overrule his order.”

“But you will not, Julius,” I said, reaching. His hand caught my wrist.

“I will, if it will keep you alive and by my side,” he said, his tone had grown sharp.

My expression fell. “You cannot be this selfish.”

His own expression fell. “Can’t I? Is it so wrong to wish that you would stay by my side for eternity? Do you not understand how important, how precious you are to –?”

Julius was cut off as I pressed my lips to his, silencing him with a kiss.

A kiss on the lips was not something I had done since I was a child, because after that, I saw it as a romantic action between lovers – and still do.

His lips were soft and delicately sweet, like they were when I was a child. But now, all of that was magnified tenfold. It was like a jolt of electricity went through me, a surge of forbidden pleasure which my logical side tried to beat down with disbelief at my body’s reaction.

I inhaled his scent which sent my head into a dizzying spin of sighing desire.

_More . . ._ my heart whispered.

_No . . . _my logic commanded, but to my shock, it was only just slightly louder than my heart’s whisper.

I pulled back, and Julius stared at me, dumbfound.

“Bera?!” He gasped. “What are you –?”

He trailed off as tiredness swept through his expression and his eyes drooped.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered.

“What . . . did you do . . . to me?” He whispered, his voice sounding incredibly weak and he slumped to one side. I caught him, cradling him to me as silent tears of anguish from what I had done, slipped from my control. The sleeping drug on my lips diffused through his and took effect immediately. As a Sorcerer, he was not immune to many of my poisons and potions.

“You will not remember this moment when you wake up,” I said, my voice breaking, feeling Julius’s firm body go limp in my arms. “You will not remember my kiss.” I kissed his head and pulled him into his bed, draping the quilt over him. His sleeping face was beautiful. “But you will remember the promise I made on this necklace,” I murmured gently into his ear. “I will not die.”

I brushed strands of his hair from his face and wiped one of my tears from his silky cheeks. Never, did I think I would have to use my poisons against him.

Once outside his room, I closed the door behind me and my head rocked back, clenching my jaw at the shocking thing I had done, and praying with all my might that he would forgive me.

It would break me if he did not, but I would also understand. I put my duty as a Guardian to Elysea, to Atreia first, before him.

With a heavy and turmoiled heart, I walked away, struggling to focus my mind on what had to be done to turn back the armada that sailed for Teminon Landing.

Despite my mind trying to focus on the task that had to be completely, the feel of Julius’s lips on mine, lingered. I touched the tips of my fingers to my mouth, recalling that moment, that sensation of bliss and of my rapidly thumping heart. My skin felt dizzyingly hot. I struggled to think, fighting the desire to feel more. Not of just his lips on mine, but elsewhere. I wanted to breathe in more of his scent, trace his firm muscles with my hands, and feel his fingers slide over my skin.

I shook my head faintly. _There is something wrong with me,_ I thought silently as the realisation dawned on me. _I am in love with my brother._

More tears fell in silence as I organised my departure. Julius would not remember it, and I would do well to not remind him, for I was content with loving him from afar. My feelings would remain hidden and secret.

Our relationship would not be broken – and I would not break my promise. I touched the emerald on my necklace.

“I will not die, Julius . . . and neither will you.”


	6. The Armada

The Armada  


I wasted no time in heading down to the Teleporter. Despite it being night, the streets of Oriel felt lively and warm. Daevas, young and old were here and there. Some waved to me as I passed, cheery with smiles and not a worry in the world.

It was no surprise. Oriel was the one place where the stresses of being a Daeva could be temporarily put aside and the Abyss could be momentarily forgotten.

Only momentarily though. The weariness forever lingered in their eyes, particularly in the older Daevas who had lived for centuries. They were tired. Everyone was tired, tired of fighting a War that seemed to have no end.

Would we reach the light at the end of the tunnel?

I slowed to a walk and gazed up at the sky. The light of Asmodae glittered back. Everyone hated them, and they hated us just as much. I had fought against them, but I saw no reason to hate them as much as the Elyos did. Just because they were cursed to live in the darkness of Atreia meant that they had been forgotten by Aion? That they did not deserve to live?

_How arrogant we have become over the centuries, _I thought silently. _We have forgotten our history. Before the Cataclysm, there was no Elysea or Asmodae._

_We were all one people. United as one nation._

More than once I had wondered what we could achieve if the Elyos and Asmodae stopped fighting each other and allied together against the Balaur, like it was originally before Lord Israphel suggested peace with the Balaur. While there was a three-way War between three races, there could never be a victor. Each side was too stubborn to think up of an alternative to end the War.

I bit on my lower lip. There had to be a way to end this terrible Abyss War. The answer had to be out there somewhere. It was just . . . where do we have to look to find it?

“_Allow me to give you some wisdom as the Daeva of Knowledge, Bera,”_ Julius had once said. _“To overcome a problem, just retrace your steps. The answer to fix it lies somewhere in the past . . . it always does.” _

Could the answer to ending the War be somewhere in the Library of Sages? In the minds and memories of the oldest Daevas? From those that lived before or during the Cataclysm?

But, then should the Empyrean Lords know? They were the first Daevas. Yet, almost eight hundred years had passed and there was no end to the War. Perhaps in the end, they did not know.

And so the killing, the death and destruction, the loss would continue.

I sucked in a shuddering breath. One death was all it took for us to become Displaced according to Julius.

Doubt infected my mind over this matter. One death was all it took? How could that even be possible? We were Daevas, immortal beings who would forever resurrect at Obelisks and Kisks; unless we ran out of Kisks in the Abyss, and then the Daevas would follow Israphel’s and Siel’s path.

Was Julius lying to me?

_But why would he lie about that? What is there to achieve by preventing me from dying?_

I could always test it out. However, if he was right, then I would die for good.

I shivered. _No. The risk is too high._ I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, clenching my fists. It would have been better if he never told me that, then I could carry on fighting in my careless way. Now knowing that one stab could really put my lights out made me more self-conscious of my body than ever. I could feel the breath of air inflate my lungs and exhale it back out. I could feel the blood flow through my veins as my heart pumped. I could feel my skin tingle against my clothing . . . like my lips.

Shaking my head vigorously and slapping my burning cheeks, I dispelled that image and feeling back out from my mind. My heart was in turmoil. I had to focus!

I dashed into the main square where Lublan the Teleporter was sending away more Daevas than receiving them.

“Beralin,” he noted with surprise when I arrived. “You’re going too? It’s like every Daeva that has had the minimum allowed leave has been called back to work. Has something happened?”

I smiled thinly. “A little emergency in the Abyss it seems.”

Lublan looked wary. “I feels bigger than a ‘little emergency’. Is Julius going to be heading off too?”

My smile froze. I could not help it. “No. He rarely gets sent into the Abyss. Everyone knows that.”

That though was because there was rarely a crisis big enough to require his presence. He may seem harmless and gentle, but beneath that was a Daeva of frightening power. I had seen it only twice before. The first time was when I had first heard one of Miragent's Holy Templars refer to me as the ‘Key’ almost a century ago. That day, Julius had made the earth shake and the sky rumble.

The second time was when we were both in the Abyss. I was a Daeva of average skills back then, not yet a Guardian, but Julius was already one of the rare few. Our Legion had been sent into the Abyss to reclaim a fortress that had been captured by the Asmodians, and we succeeded.

Our victory was short-lived. Little did we realise that the Balaur waited in ambush to strike whichever side had won the fortress. They took us by surprise, and to our complete horror, the ambush was led by one of the Dragon Lords themselves – Maslemtaeda – who had become bored of giving orders from afar in Balaurea.

Our Brigade General was struck down immediately. It all happened so fast. Just as panic was beginning to break out amongst our ranks, Julius took command. He stepped forward to meet the wave of charging Balaur and . . . and . . . somehow, he stopped the entire wave of the Balaur attack. They had collided with a towering wall of Aether itself that literally screamed with power.

The front lines of the Balaur were obliterated and those behind were flung back. At the same time, the wall rippled and dissipated, elevating the crushing weight of its power from our shoulders. It was such a drastic change in magical pressure that many Daevas fell to their knees.

“Teleport out! Now!” Julius had commanded without looking back at us. None of us could see his face.

Everyone scrambled to their feet, obeying his command without question. None of us stood a chance when Maslemtaeda himself towered before us.

As everyone began to cast the spell to teleport back to Teminon, Julius did not. He was casting a spell to create another wall, something which I could only assume was generating an Aetheric Field itself. At the same time, Maslemtaeda opened his great maw of a mouth and a terrible sound that was a cross between an earth-cracking roar and ear-splitting wail, came screeching out. The fortress began to collapse and I staggered over to Julius.

I managed to clamp my hand over his shoulder and begin the Teleportation spell when Maslemtaeda’s Dragon eyes glared straight at Julius. There was a flicker of something in those flaming eyes.

“YOU!” He boomed. “AION’S –!”

I did not hear the rest, as my spell took Julius and I out of the collapsing Fortress. It no longer existed anymore, for it had become nothing but broken fragments of rock floating in the Abyss.

Amaurea’s Fortress was its name.

Many people from the Legion had been killed in the ambush. Those that had survived returned to Sanctum with a tale they would never forget. They had faced a Dragon Lord and lived to tell of it.

Because Julius had saved us all. I had been half expecting to hear rumours of Julius being on equal footing to even that of the Empyrean Lords after facing a Dragon Lord. Yet, such a rumour never gave birth. Something did not feel right. Not to mention, I still remembered that flicker in Maslemtaeda’s eyes and his booming voice.

“_YOU!”_

It was recognition.

Maslemtaeda recognised Julius.

“Well, let’s hope that this situation is not serious enough to warrant his presence,” Lublan sighed. “I’m guessing you will be wanting to Teleport to Sanctum as well then?”

I blinked, refocussing from the memories that made me frown in confusion. “A-ah, yes please.”

Lublan peered at me. “Are you alright? You look . . . paler.”

I laughed, masking the doubt and suspicion. “Just nerves. You are lucky you don’t have to go into the Abyss, Lublan.”

He chuckled. “Very true.” He waved his staff and the rippling circular portal shimmered before me. “Good luck, Daeva. May Ariel’s light guide your path.”

I smiled back at him, more to reassure myself than he, and leapt through the portal to Sanctum.

It was busy as usual, but there was an atmosphere of confusion and tension. Sanctum’s Teleporter was looking incredibly stressed as he tried to keep up with the comings and goings of all the Daevas.

Many Legions it appeared were beginning to mass. My Legion was one of them, the same one at Amaurea’s Fortress. After Maslemtaeda killed our last Brigade General, Julius took over and renamed it Sudryl’s Sword Legion. No one questioned the renaming, or asked who Sudryl was. For some reason, that did not seem important. The members liked it because it ‘sounded cool’.

It was important to me though as I was a Centurion. Despite being his half-sister, I did not want such responsibilities as Deputy. That position was split between Surion and Michael, while Amia, Seregon and I were his Centurions.

“_Sudryl is a figure in Atreia’s history since before the beginning of the Millennium War,”_ Julius had told me. _“He is unheard of to most of the people though as there is little knowledge left of the Age before the Millennium War.”_

This had piped my interest, but I had yet to find any time to go digging into such lost and ancient history. Whatever free time I had, I filled it with fun and games and relaxation.

However, that had to change. Some of my memories were fragmented, and they did not make any sense.

Green lines of light; my parents’ mysterious deaths which I had no memory of aside from that dream I had barely a few hours ago in the Library; Julius’s glowing green eyes; the retaking of the Divine Fortress; Maslemtaeda’s recognition of Julius; his claim that we could die and become Displaced after one death.

How had I not noticed the strangeness surrounding Julius and I before?

My eyes narrowed._ What are you hiding from me, Julius?_

However, I could not afford to think of it now. I had a task to fulfil. Striding to my office in Sanctum where I also kept my armour and daggers, I prepared for the coming battle.

* * * * *

Dawn was fast approaching, but there was no particular light to indicate otherwise, not when in the Abyss. Voids of light swirled in random locations which were peaks in the Aether. The space around them rippled and beyond, the Abyss rolled with colours of varying oranges, browns, reds and purple, like the colour of a bruise at various stages of its natural healing process.

Sometimes the Abyss was freezing cold; sometimes it was boiling hot. Some places were as black as starless nights, while others were bright like a thousand suns. Aether swirled everywhere, empowering every Daeva . . . as well as every Balaur.

At Teminon Landing, Michael had taken charge and shouted out orders. Despite the tension and severity of the situation, he did not look entirely stressed. It was a mask though. He could not risk letting his true fears show, otherwise there would be dire consequences in the morale of the forces of Daevas that he and Surion had to direct together.

Surion had already arrived at the third defensive ring and was scrambling to reinforce the rings left. Amia had gone with him as the first healer. Michael turned his gaze briefly into the depths of the Abyss, feeling worry for the little Cleric pulse in his veins. He knew that she was more than capable, despite her innocent and childish appearance, but he still worried.

“_When are you going to tell her how you feel?” _Julius had once asked him.

The question had caught Michael by surprise. _“Feelings? What feelings?”_

Julius chuckled softly. _“Please. You think I have not noticed since I spend the least amount of time with you all?”_

“_She’s just a good friend. I see her like a little sister.”_

“_Do you really?”_

Michael smiled to himself and snorted, shaking his head. _You are sharp, Julius._

“What could possibly be funny to you at this moment in time?” A Brigade General asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Just a memory,” Michael replied lightly.

The General looked dubious and shook his head in dismay. “You really are a strange Daeva.”

“I know,” he sang. “How many Legions do we have now?”

“Three more are currently coming through. More will follow after. Mine are fully assembled, therefore I will take them to join Seregon.”

Michael nodded and watched the Brigade General leave the Landing with his Legion in organised formation.

Teminon Landing had four military defensive rings, the first being the furthest away from the Landing, and the fourth being closest, but even the fourth was far beyond the sight of any normal person. Between the fourth ring and the Landing was a fifth ring, one that was used for emergencies and to act as a final stand. In Michael’s lifetime of two hundred years, he had never seen the fifth ring being used seeing as no attack had ever made it past third ring.

But what was there to say that this time would be no different? As far as Michael could recall, the Balaur had never launched such a massive attack. Had the Balaur prison cracked enough to allow such vast numbers to crawl out in such a short amount of time?

Despite the warmth of Teminon Landing, Michael felt cold. More Balaur were squeezing out of their prison, wreaking havoc as they once did before the Cataclysm. The older Daevas, the ones that had been around during that time were growing concerned. The eight hundred years of imprisonment had not quelled their thirst for power and dominance.

And not just that, he had heard reports from spies in Asmodae that the Aether was leaking from the dark land into the Abyss due to the northern base of the Tower. The death of the light of the northern base not only affected the Asmodians, but also Elysea. The instability in the Tower was draining the Aether away into the Abyss from all over Atreia.

Nothing was improving. It was only getting worse.

Something had to be done. The Seraphim Lords had to do something. Why were they not doing anything?

_No,_ he told himself sharply. _They are doing something. They are the Seraphim Lords, protectors of Elysea. We see so little of them. It must be because they are working on a solution to save us all from oblivion. _

He took a deep breath in to calm his wavering nerves and let his gaze fall back over the Landing. As the Daevas arrived, he sent them all to their respective rings so that Surion and the other commanding Daevas beneath them could organise them into ranks.

Surion commanded the third and fourth rings with Amia’s help. Seregon commanded the fifth, Michael directed the movements from the centre as the strategist. As a Chanter, he could both fight on the front like Surion, as well as command from behind. However, for this particular battle, he would have much preferred Julius to direct the battle. After all, Julius was their Brigade General.

But, Julius was not the one who caused mayhem over the Sky Canal yesterday. That man never made a fool of himself.

This was Michael’s test, a test which had him weak at the knees for it was unlike any other.

A messenger ran past him and Michael held out his staff, halting the quick Daeva where he was. “Have we found out who’s the leading Balaur armada yet?”

“Not yet, Commander. The flagship has yet to hoist their colours,” the messenger said breathlessly.

Michael frowned slightly, clicking his tongue under his breath. He withdrew his staff.

“Keep looking,” he instructed.

“Yes, Commander,” the messenger said, nodding a bow and dashed off to deliver whatever message it was that he was carrying to another officer.

Michael watched him go, worrying to himself again in silence. The armada of Dredgion battleships numbers in their hundreds. Such a fleet would have to be led by a Balaur of equally frightening power. If Michael could just find out who the Balaur Commander was then they would all have a much clearer picture of who they were dealing with, and how exactly to counter it.

Adding to his worries was the fact that he had yet to see Beralin. She was one of the five that should be directing the battle with the rest of them. Unless . . . she had been assigned some other duty since she was a master Assassin. Was that why Fasimede kept her behind yesterday? Did he have another plan for her?

_Assassination? _Michael wondered.

Feeling eyes on his back, he turned around and gazed into the Abyss. Although he could not see her, he knew that Beralin was out there somewhere.

* * * * *

I stood on one of the many floating lumps of rock in the distance from Teminon Landing, far enough away that a Daeva would not be able to spot the rock and I, unless they were an Archer or Assassin.

Closer to me though was the fifth defensive ring led by Seregon, which was in a parallel orbit with Teminon Landing, while the fourth ring was built in polar orbit.

Every other ring was perpendicular to the other, built like that to accommodate attacks from above and below the Landing. My current rock was high above Teminon in the distance so that the fifth ring would not exactly be looking in my direction. I could not risk allowing my fellow Elyos comrades to know where I was, otherwise the secrecy of my mission could well go up in smoke.

Even though I could not see everything, the feeling of anticipation and tension permeated the atmosphere of the Abyss. It was a mass mobilisation of incredible proportions, and I could not help but feel impressed at Surion’s and Michael’s organisation. They may be goofballs and idiots outside of work, but such stupidity could not diminish their power as Guardians. They were Daevas first before they were anything else.

I smiled faintly to myself, glad to have such friends. Yet at that thought, the smile faded just as quickly as it came and was replaced by a gaze of concern. This was not a type of battle we had ever fought before, not on such a grand scale. Daevas were no longer afraid of the Dedgion Battleships due to our ability to resurrect.

However, this time it was different. If the defensive rings fell, then the Balaur would storm Teminon Landing and through it, invade Elysea. More than eighty percent of the population were unascended Daevas, normal people who lived normal lives. They were not immortal, nor immune to death.

My fingers curled into clenched fists. We could not allow that to happen. We had to succeed in deflecting this attack. There was no other choice.

I had to succeed in my mission. One shot was all I had.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply, feeling the Aether empower me as it diffused through my lungs into my bloodstream.

_Good luck, my friends_, I prayed. _May Aion protect you all._

I leapt off the side of the rock and out into the open air of the Abyss. My wings spread and I took flight.

* * * * *

An external power beyond Julius’s influence kept his body bound fast. In the blackness of unconsciousness he waited, waited for his scattered thoughts to return together as one.

Minutes, hours . . . perhaps even days passed. Until something changed.

Glowing emerald eyes stared at him, ringed by hair as deep as blood yet as rippling and shimmering as fire.

“_Wake up, Julius. Time is running out.”_

Julius stirred, and his eyes snapped open.

* * * * *

It was a day before I finally sent a message back to Michael, and a further day of waiting and scouting before I spotted my target with a sinking heart.

The first of the Dredgion battleships emerged from the depths of the Abyss above me. The huge ships rumbled past in their hundreds, the cacophony of their engineering caused the air to silently roar and vibrate with terrible power.

All moisture vaporised from my mouth as the dread sunk into my bones, taking in the sight of the armada that would forever be imprinted in my mind – or so I would have liked to have thought. Events as great as these often resulted in a strange phenomenon that resulted in my memories fragmenting.

Why was I forgetting?

I leapt and glided from one floating rock and island to the other, careful to make sure I stayed out of sight. White wings did not help in this aspect for it stood out against the darkness of the shadows like blades of light. Therefore I had to fly against the sources of swirling light in the Abyss, using it as a cover so whoever would look would be blinded by the light which I hid within.

Most people never thought of using light as cover screens. They associated light as being the concept that brought all hidden things out from their hiding places, and they associated shadow and darkness with the Abyss in which anything lurked in the murky depths, hidden away, masked.

True enough, I would have found it far more convenient to have the wings of an Asmodian right now and to have their incredible night-vision eyes. But I was an Elyos, and I had to find a different method of slinking from place to place than the stereotypical shadow to shadow.

When my wings shone, I was an Assassin of the light, not an Assassin of darkness.

My gaze scanned the lines and formations of battleships, searching for the one that stood out from the rest.

And then I saw it, the ship that was ten times the size of an already huge Dedgion. I felt the blood drain from my face as I stared at the colossal vessel. It overshadowed all the other battleships, like a great owl with swooping wings that cast the mice beneath it into darkness which they learned to fear.

The flagship of such size suddenly made me feel so tiny, so insignificant. I may be a Guardian, but for once in my life, I felt like a vulnerable ant that had been separated from my pack and the child with the magnifying glass chased its searing hot beam after my lone scampering.

I touched my trembling fingers to my emerald necklace, remembering the promise I had made on it.

_I will not die._

I gulped. Could I do the task that Fasimede had set me? Could I take out whatever Balaur commanded this horrific vessel? It was the flagship for sure, but there were no flags flying yet. Were they trying to hide their Commander?

As I gazed upon it in terrified awe, the realisation began to sink in that this attack was the first of its kind since before the Cataclysm. The Balaur prison had not broken to such an extent in the last eight hundred years to allow this many Balaur to escape and cause destruction.

However, this was a full scale invasion, on both ends of the Tower of Eternity.

Cold anger as well as fear began to bubble in my blood. Was Fasimede insane? How were five Guardians supposed to repel such an invasion force? How was I supposed to assassinate the Balaur Commander who would no doubt be a Balaur of frightening standing, being the equivalent of a Brigade General at least?

The Seraphim Lords should be the ones directing this battle. Not us!

A jolt went through me as I continued to gaze at the flagship. _What if those at Sanctum aren’t actually aware of the situation? _I thought in doubt. _As Fasimede had said yesterday, the armada was not this big to begin with, but had grown this large this quickly that so many Daevas have been scrambled to their posts as a matter of great urgency. Even Julius said something about Fasimede not admitting his mistake! So do the Seraphim Lords actually not know of the full situation? Or are they testing us?_

If it was a test, then we could not afford to fail. If they were not aware of how huge this armada really was, then we had to hold the Balaur off long enough to buy time for a Seraphim Lord to arrive.

Long story short, Sudryl’s Sword was still directing this battle. The responsibility was heavy on _our_ shoulders.

My jaw clenched, wishing that all six of us were together, with Julius as our Commander-in-chief because then our full Legion would be assembled and the Legion itself would obtain the credit and respect that will come should we deflect this invasion.

However, if we failed . . .

I shook my head vigorously. We could not lose. Surion and Michael were just as excellent tacticians as Julius. And we all knew each other so well, therefore our teamwork was perfect . . . was it enough though?

Even though we may have all felt safer with a higher morale if Julius was here, I found myself calming abruptly at the knowledge that Julius was not in the Abyss with us. He was in Sanctum, in Oriel, where he was safest, away from the risk of being hurt. Even though I did something unthinkable to him before I left, something which could well earn me his hatred and make it hard for me to look him in the eye again, I felt at peace, knowing that I could protect him this way.

Just thinking of him brought my whirling panics into a sea of calm.

I stood, exhaling slowing. All the tension that clenched my muscles, sighed out with that slow breath. My heart slowed and my entire being relaxed as I lowered my hands to my sides. My gaze sharpened, flickering from rock to rock, ship to ship, flight ring to flight ring.

My path was clear.

_Kill their Commander_, my Assassin spirit hissed.

I went invisible and jumped into flight, flying at speed along the invisible spindly path that my eyes had drawn out between the rocks and flight rings. There was no room for doubt, no time to think. Only to focus.

Crouching on my final rock, I watched the two Balaur guards at the closest entrance to me into the flagship that loomed before, above, and below me. It size was of catastrophic proportions. If the Balaur had such a vessel under their command, then what else did they have in Balaurea.

Behind the guards they guarded a barred gate. Two Balaur approached from the other side.

_Changing shifts_, I noted.

During the moment they were distracted with the change, I flew silently to the wall of the ship, finding footholds in the rocky surface to cling to and let my wings fade away, leaving me in the darkness which I could now blend in with. I clung to the sides like a spider, watching my prey below me.

The two new guards took their positions and the previous two left through the gate. It swung back slowly and I took my chance.

Falling from where I lingered, I fell behind on the guards onto the platform without a sound and my daggers flashed out. My blade slipped beneath the helmet of one Balaur and into his neck through the spine from behind, delivering instant death. Before he began to fall, I grabbed his broadsword and lodged it into the gateway, preventing the gate from clicking shut.

The second Balaur noticed my presence an instant later and swung his massive glaive for my head. I heard him suck in a whistled breath to shout. He did not get the opportunity as I ducked under his glaive with a spin that put me behind him and delivered the same quick death I had given to his companion.

I caught them as they fell, attempting to muffle the sound of their falling – and almost collapsed beneath their weight. Despite my divinely enhanced body, I lacked brute strength.

As quickly yet as quietly as I could, I lowered them to the ground and then dragged their bodies through the gate where the corridor was a set of stairs leading down. It was perfect. No one would be able to see the dead bodies if they looked up the stairs, and so I propped them into a sitting position against the walls and took the keys from one of the belts.

The first part of my task was complete – entering the flagship.

I crept down the stairs into a wide, fire-lit corridor. There were a few other doors, and some of those were guarded, therefore I stayed in the shadow of the stairs and thought about what to do next. I had to find the bridge, for that was no doubt where the Commander would be.

Leaning against the wall, I let my vision fall out of focus as I saw in a different light. The flow of Aether pulsed through the vessel in great veins and arteries. It was all around me, shimmering in a hundred different colours. It was hard to believe that such destructive beings also used this same beautiful Aether that was a huge contrast against their barbaric and savage nature.

They all flowed towards one place, far above me and towards the front of the ship.

The bridge.

My vision focused again and I gripped my daggers. Once again, I went invisible and ducked into the corridor.

* * * * *

It was incredible just how many Daevas had now assembled in and around Teminon Landing. Adrenaline pumped in Michael’s veins. Never had he had to command such a force in his entire two hundred years of life.

Over the two days, messages were flying all over Elysea as people began to find out that there was now a serious risk of being invaded. Scouts had returned with information on the size of the armada and to be honest, Michael was not happy at the news. He was dreading it.

Was Fasimede wise in sending just five Guardians to deflect the invasion? Would it be better if a Seraphim Lord directed it?

“Commander Michael!”

Michael glanced behind. Another messenger hurried up to him, went down on one knee and held out a scroll. Michael took it.

“Unsigned?” He noted as he removed the string around the parchment. “Who is it from?”

“Lady Atherton.”

Michael’s eyes widened and he unrolled the scroll immediately. Indeed, it was her scratchy writing. Very different to Julius’s elegant script. Still, Michael could read her message.

_Keep as much pressure as you can on the fleet. I have been sent to assassinate their Commander._

Michael narrowed his eyes, not entirely surprised to discover that his guess with regards to her role had been correct. Fasimede had tasked her with taking out the Balaur Commander. As the Assassin that she was, she was perfect for the job.

He read her request again.

_Aye_, he mused to himself. _We will keep the pressure on them for you, Bera. Enough to buy you time and distraction._

He rolled up the scroll and handed it back to the messenger. “Deliver it to Surion and Seregon.”

The messenger nodded. “I will,” he replied with determination and dashed off, leaping from the side of Teminon and into the air, spreading his wings.

Michael watched the messenger fly, before turning his attention back to what was in front of him. They all played a vital role in this battle. But wariness infected his resolve. They still had no idea who they were up against.

Barely five minutes had passed since he received Beralin’s message when a scout flew onto the Landing. His face was white and he panted with exhaustion, yet his eyes were wide and very awake. They were wide with fear.

“Commander!” He puffed, managing to stagger over to Michael before falling onto his knees. Others crowded around, nervous to hear what the scout had discovered to make him so flustered.

Michael frowned in concern and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder healing the Daeva of his wariness. “What happened?”

“The flagship!” The scout gulped. “The flags have been raised and are the Two Heads.”

It felt like Michael had been punched in the face and he stiffened, eyes widening. The flag symbol of Two Heads represented the being that was said to have had two bodies. There was no being with two bodies, but there was one with two faces.

The fifth Dragon Lord – Tiamat.

Michael stood. “Shit!” He cursed under his breath. Murmurs and curses of horror and disbelief rippled through those close enough to hear what the scout had said.

It was the fifth Dragon Lord that led this invasion against Elysea. Tiamat himself.

This was no longer a matter that could be handled by five Guardians alone.

“Michael!” Another messenger shouted, running up to him and was breathing hard.

“Commander Surion has met the first line of the armada! The third ring is under attack!”

Michael breathed in sharply. _Oh for the love of Aion. Everything has to happen at the same time!_

The attack had now begun. They knew who was leading the invasion. And Beralin, who had no idea who she had been sent to assassinate, had been sent into the lion’s den with no warning. She could not face a Dragon Lord! Only the Seraphim Lords could equal them.

Or Julius, who was the only other Daeva to have encountered one directly and survived. Michael had no true idea of just how strong his Brigade General was, but if the Seraphim Lords did not arrive, then Michael could think of no one else to help aside from Julius.

_Damn it!_ Michael thought fiercely. He spun around.

“Fili! Philip!”

“Yes!” Two messengers hurried to him.

“Fili, inform the Seraphim Lords immediately that we require assistance. The flag of Two Heads flies. Our opponent is Dragon Lord Tiamat.”

Fili’s eyes widened in horror. She had not heard the messenger’s declaration of what flags were flying. Michael watched her face, as well as Philip’s, drain of colour.

“Go!” Michael pointed at the Teleporter. Fili jumped, snapped out of her stunned stupor, and ignored the other Daevas around her as she shoved her way to the Teleporter to get to Sanctum.

“Philip.”

The man jerked at the sharpness in Michael’s tone, as well as having been shocked out of his own stunned stupor.

“Tell Brigade General Julius Atherton that I request his presence at Teminon Landing.”

Philip blinked. “But Lord Atherton has not been ordered to partake in the resistance.”

“I don’t care,” Michael said steely. “It is his Legion that is commanding this resistance, and as its Brigade General, he has the duty to direct it. Now go! Quickly!”

Philip nodded, and followed after Fili to the Teleporter.

This was no longer a matter of punishing five misbehaving Guardians by seeing if they wreck or uphold their reputation in the Abyss. This was a matter of the safety of Elysea itself.

Michael was confident in his and his friends’ ability to command and direct. But up against a Dragon Lord?

No. He needed someone more capable. He needed his Brigade General.

_And besides_, he thought grimly. _As soon as Julius finds out who Bera has been sent to assassinate, he will come to try and save her. Bera can’t win against a Dragon Lord, Pureblood or not._


	7. Two Heads

Two Heads  


Azphel stood against the vast window that overlooked his great city of Pandemonium. The room of his office lay unlit behind him. Its shadows rolled lazily around his feet, creeping up his armoured robes and clung to him like a vast cloak of the darkness that was Asmodae’s eternal night.

The translucent net curtain hung as still as frozen time between the window and he, as silver and as delicate as the cold light of stars.

Like her hair.

Azphel touched his pale and slender fingers to the quartz that hung at the end of his necklace, wound in winding silver. Within its clear depths was her image, frozen in time, standing and smiling with the brightness of the Tower’s light, filled with the warmth and kindness of gentle sunlight which Azphel had almost forgotten.

The Cataclysm had taken such gentleness and kindness from his people, replacing it with freezing anger and bitterness. The past could never be forgotten, otherwise who would learn from it? Without the lessons of the past, there could be no future.

Below, the city of Pandemonium buzzed with hectic life as Daevas scrambled to their posts, hurrying to the Abyss. The Balaur armada of the north had already encountered the first defensive ring of Primum Landing almost three months month ago. That ring had fallen, and the second had fallen a month ago. Now, the armada had met the resistance of Primum Landing’s third ring.

The Balaur will advance no further.

Azphel’s dark eyes narrowed and he gripped the quartz. His ancient hate for the Balaur rolled within his soul, but his heart felt nothing, for he no longer had a heart.

He lost it over eight hundred years ago.

But even with her death so long ago, he had still not achieved anything. The prison of the Balaur was crumbling by the day; Aether leaked more and more from Asmodae, draining into the dark and endless oblivion of the Abyss; the old prophecy had yet to be fulfilled.

The world of Atreia was dying. The Asmodians knew that better than anyone, better than the Balaur who sought to destroy it, better than the Elyos who were too proud to look at the crisis before them – or even to truly notice that the answer to save Atreia lay somewhere in their sun-kissed lands.

_How cruel Aion is, granting the Elyos with the Key but without the knowledge, and cursing us with the knowledge but without the Key._

For over a thousand years prior, Azphel fought. For eight hundred years after he waited for the prophecy to waken, so that one day the world will be saved, and he would finally be able to return to his wife’s side.

_I am tired, _he thought silently.

His appearance may forever be eternally youthful, but he was as tired as a man lying on his deathbed. His body was strong and indestructible, but his core was fragile and weary with age. He felt stretched thin, like butter spread over too much bread.

The Dragon Lords were once again leading the charge against the world of Atreia, beings that had even Azphel – feared by Nezekan himself, humbling Zikel himself – on his guard with wariness.

Soon, it would be like the days of old, where the Empyrean Lords fought the Dragon Lords directly. Always fighting. Always hating. Always waiting.

Behind the net curtain of the window, the faint reflection of another man in the crystal glass caused Azphel’s eyes to flicker to the phantom image in the glass, but he did not turn around. He knew who it was.

“How much longer must we wait?” Azphel whispered.

The reflection did not move, but green eyes glowed in the darkness. “Will you not allow them more time?”

Azphel’s fingers left his quartz and touched the glass of the window, feeling its freezing chill against his fingertips through the curtain. Tired sadness touched his dark eyes.

His gaze never used to be filled with such quiet sorrow. It was once filled with life and emotions that felt feelings aside from fury and hate and bitterness. It was a gaze that once held joy and laughter and adoration for the woman with starlight hair.

Two hundred years he spent with Amana.

The man behind him also once had a lover, a woman who lived for over four centuries, before she too had been killed by the Balaur during the Millennium War before the Cataclysm.

“Aion’s Key has barely lived a hundred years. Aion’s Vessel has lived for many. Will you not allow them at least our equivalent?” The figure behind Azphel murmured.

Azphel’s lips twitched, a weak attempt at a faint smile of despair. “No man or woman deserves to live for centuries alone.”

_But, in the end,_ he thought, _our other halves will always do everything in their power to protect us, even if it means giving up their immortal lives for our sakes, forsaking us to walk alone. _

“Atreia no longer has that time.”

He saw Aion’s Key a long time ago during the Millennium War, with hair as black as Asmodae night, skin as pale as moonlight, and the same eyes as the being that stood behind him. He knew not how she came to be there, when she was born barely a hundred years ago. But his memories were absolute. She had been there during the Millennium War. She had been there during the Cataclysm.

“_I found out in the end, Julius! I know what my role is. I know what your role is. Even though you will have nearly a thousand years to work out how to keep the truth from me when I am finally born, I will still work it out because I love Elysea, I love Atreia, I love you. I will do _everything_ in my power to protect it all, to protect you.”_

There was such fierceness in those eyes. Just like Amana, just like Thalia.

Azphel gazed over the city and up into the dark sky where the lights of Elysea flickered. Aion’s Key and Vessel where somewhere on that side of the Abyss. Somewhere in that light, Aion’s Vessel worked to keep her from discovering the truth, hiding her in the protective light of ignorance while it lasted.

However, in the end, she would learn it all. The Empyrean Lords would return to the Aether, the Thirteenth would govern, the Key will open the destined path of the Vessel . . . and Julius will lose his heart.

Just like them.

“Our lives are cruel, but yours and his are crueller,” Azphel said quietly.

“It is a price that must be paid for Atreia,” the figure whispered. “For being Aion’s chosen. We will linger on, while you will fade.”

Azphel’s graceful claws cracked the glass. “What of Ariel?” His voice was so quiet it was barely audible, but its bitterness carried like lightning. “Should she discover the true meaning of the prophecy, she will stop it. She fears the darkness of death more than anyone and anything. If she and Julius work against what is meant to be, then they could well achieve it, and Atreia will fall into oblivion.”

The phantom behind Azpehl shifted. “Ariel’s pride does not allow her to see,” he murmured. “Nor will Julius show her.”

“How can you be so certain?”

Only silence met his question.

Azphel closed his eyes and let his hand fall from the window. The figure behind him was gone.

Another presence entered his office in silence. He did not need to turn around to see who it was.

“Triniel,” Azphel said quietly.

“Azphel,” she breathed, her voice as cold as ice and as fleeting as mist. “It is time.”

Azphel turned, his gaze landing directly on her in the shadow. She could fool and hide from everyone else, but not from Azphel. His dark gaze saw all.

The Asmodians did not have Aion’s Key or Vessel to fight the Dragon Lord that came to invade their lands. Tiamat invaded the south, Maslemtaeda invaded the north. Therefore Maslemtaeda would be met by the Shedim Lords themselves.

It would be their first meeting after eight hundred years. Neither side had forgotten.

The Lord of Shadow raised his hand and strode towards the door where the Lady of Death waited. A cloak of darkness materialised in his grip which he swept around his body.

The battle between the Dragon Lords and Empyrean Lords would once again resume after eight centuries.

* * * * *

On the other side of Atreia, in Sanctum, the Lady of Light stood by the window of her tower, overlooking her stunning city of warmth, beauty and elegance. This was her home, and she would protect it with everything she had. She would protect the people of Elysea with her guiding light.

But so much time had passed since the Cataclysm, and the world was still rife with chaos and war. She did not want to fight. Fighting was never the answer. Good intentions, patience and an understanding nature were what could end this destruction and death.

Peace could end it.

_But you were too stubborn to accept that, weren’t you, Azphel?_ She thought with a faint frown, feeling heavy disappointment weigh down on her heart. _If we had made peace with the Balaur back then, none of this would have happened. Atreia would never have been torn asunder. _

And now her lands were under threat in such a way that had not been seen in eight centuries.

She worried, like a mother would worry about her child. However, she knew that Elysea would not fall today. She trusted her Guardians and Daeva’s. She trusted Sudryl’s Sword.

“You place an unnecessarily heavy burden on mine and my Legion’s shoulders, Ariel.”

The Lady of Light turned around, feeling her body automatically tense ever so slightly, but no such emotion was shown on her face. His silent arrivals used to surprise her in the distant past, but not anymore. She was used to it.

Julius stood by the closed door. His casual appearance could not hide the ancient aura that swirled around him. How carefully he kept it hidden, even from the Seraphim Lords. But they never forgot who he really was.

She still found it difficult to accept. They all believed that he had died in the Cataclysm – until a hundred years ago.

Ariel smiled warmly in greeting, for it was a smile that could melt the coldest of ice, perhaps even the ice of Kurnkalfberg that lay buried beneath Ereshkigal’s breath of terrible winter.

“Julius,” she greeted. Her smile could not reach him.

It was something she could never completely understand, no matter how wise, how intellectual or how fair she was. Julius had never been truly happy. Being part of the prophecy to save Atreia was indeed a heavy burden for anyone to bear, for it carried the weights and expectations of all. But he should be happy that such an honour was given to him.

However, it was the Empyrean Lords who carried that weight, for very few knew of the prophecy of Aion’s Key. The Empyrean Lords were the ones who fought for Atreia, for Aion. They led the charge against the Balaur.

“I do not believe you are ignorant enough to not have noticed the forces that have been on course for both Elysea and Asmodae,” Julius said.

“Indeed, I am not,” Ariel agreed. “I have trusted Fasimede and Lavirintos with such a task. You should realise that the moment the Seraphim Lords head off for battle on the front lines, it would cause mass panic and hysteria across Elysea. Our presence on the battlefield would mean that our safety is on the verge of collapse. Image the chaos that would ensue?”

She did not back down from Julius’s unwavering stare, no matter how unnerving it was.

It was him who turned his gaze away to the phantom ghost of broken Atreia behind her desk. Ariel felt a tiny breath of relief escape her.

“There is already chaos and confusion,” he said, moving over to the phantom and gazed at it.

“They have been informed,” Ariel said with commanding calmness.

Julius raised an eyebrow. “Of a _minor_ emergency? That does into explain to them why almost every Daeva possible is being sent to the Abyss. All in the space of two days.”

Ariel touched her hand to the windowsill gently. “I am surprised you did not come to me as soon as your Deputies and Centurions were sent to Teminon Landing,” she said in thoughtfulness. She had expected him to appear in her office the following morning her Guardians had left for Teminon, especially after Beralin had been sent with them.

Julius’s features changed ever so slightly that it was difficult to notice, but his eyes flickered with troubled memory – and was then replaced by cold anger.

“I trust them to successfully deflect this armada, Julius. There are more than capable Daevas and Guardians assembling and fighting at Teminon.”

“Guardians – let alone Daevas – cannot fight a Dragon Lord, Ariel,” Julius said with a voice as cold as Ereshkigal’s and as dark as Azphel’s. The light of her office dimmed and its warmth fled from Julius’s carefully suppressed anger. With the dimming and fleeing of the light and heat, Ariel felt some of her strength leave with it.

Her slight laugh was bitter. _Such presence . . .!_

She always forgot about it. His casual appearance and cheery and gentle nature hid his inner strength well, even from her, whose light brought all hidden things out of the shadow and into her revealing light.

The growing dark and cold disappeared as quickly as it came as they both glanced towards the door, feeling the messenger dash up to it from behind. Soon enough, a series of rapid knocks tapped against the door.

“Enter,” Ariel said gently, yet her voice was forever filled with the superior air of commandment.

The door opened and a female messenger staggered in as gracefully as she could. Her eyes landed on Ariel and the young woman fell down onto one knee to bow. Simultaneously, her gaze flickered to Julius where her eyes widened in surprise upon finding that Ariel was not alone.

“What is it, Fili?” Ariel prompted lightly.

Fili went back to staring at the floor. “Lady Ariel. I carry a message from Commander Michael of Sudryl’s Sword Legion. Dragon Lord Tiamat leads the charge against Teminon Landing and he requests assistance immediately.”

_Ah, Michael, _she thought. _You are more capable than you give yourself credit for. Where has all that vanity of yours gone?_

However, she would not refuse his request. He had a justifiable reason for requesting reinforcements against such an opponent. But, she would not be sending a Seraphim Lord, which is no doubt what they would have all preferred. She did not want to cause panic amongst the people. She wanted to protect whatever bit of peace the Elyos could gain, even if that meant blinding them with light to keep the truth in the dark.

Before she said her reply, she and Julius glanced towards the door again with mild surprise to see a second messenger stagger through with a bow of apology.

“Forgive the intrusion, Lady Ariel, I heard that Lord Atherton was here and I have a message for him from Commander Michael,” the messenger panted.

Ariel nodded, giving him permission to speak.

“Commander Michael requests your presence, Lord Atherton, by any means necessary.”

There was a pause of decisiveness, but Ariel knew that Julius had already made up his mind. He glanced at her.

“I will join my Legion in the Abyss, but not to take direct command,” he murmured. “Beralin does not know who she has been sent to assassinate. I will not allow her to be captured by the Balaur.” He turned to the messenger. “Philip, you may tell Commander Michael that I am on my way.”

“Yes, my Lord,” he exclaimed with a nodded bow, and hurried back down the corridor.

Julius and Ariel exchanged one last glance, a glance of equals, until Julius nodded a polite bow, and left her office.

Ariel caught Fili’s gaze as it flickered between the two in what looked like stunned awe, before she quickly looked down as her eyes met Ariel’s. Ariel sighed internally. Did Fili sense the power of both of their gazes just now? Did Fili notice how Julius stared at the Lady of Light with eyes that equalled her?

Judging from Fili’s confused facial expression, the young messenger did notice, but her confusion would work against her. Soon enough, the messenger would dismiss what she saw when Julius returns to his usual, well-mannered and care-free self, easing away any doubts in anyone’s minds.

He was a frightening man.

Ariel held her fingers out and flat-plated crystals bearing her seal flashed between her fingers. The seal of the target recipient glowed on the other side.

She handed them to Fili. “Deliver those as quickly as you can. I will send another messenger back to Commander Michael to inform him of my decision.”

Fili nodded. “Yes, my Lady!”

Ariel touched Fili’s shoulder delicately. “May Aion guide your path,” she whispered, before letting the messenger go.

The door closed behind the messenger and Ariel turned to gaze at the phantom ghost of Atreia behind her desk. The Tower was forever broken in the middle. But it never used to be like that.

She remembered the time when the Tower had been whole, when both bases pulsed with light and Aether, when it had become their base of operations and protector.

Now, there was nothing in the middle. Fragments floated around it and swirled in the Abyss at the centre. The southern base continued to pulse and shine brightly, while the northern base had died in the Cataclysm. Lord Israphel had been a fraction too slow when he gave his life to save what was left of the Tower.

Ariel remembered that day like it was yesterday. She remembered the horror and dismay when the Balaur ambassador had been assassinated. She remembered the rage of the Dragon Lords and the chaos that erupted afterwards. She remembered Israphel’s expression of guilt.

But why did he feel guilty? He had done nothing wrong. Proposing peace was the right thing to do.

In the end though, none of that mattered. Atreia was broken and suspended in limbo. But gradually, that was beginning to fall apart as well. Atreia was dying. She could feel its Aether flow into the Abyss with every passing day. And that flow was growing steadily on an exponential curve.

The Tower’s unstable harmonics with each base was causing the gradual decay of the world. If something was not done soon, then Atreia would fall into oblivion.

There were two options. The first was what the Asmodians believed; that the southern base had to be destroyed to balance out the Tower’s unstable harmonics so that both sides were equal.

That was an option which Ariel and her fellow Seraphim Lords refused to look at. The other option was to somehow restore the northern base – to bring it back to life. However, in all these centuries, it had never been achieved. If the Shedim Lords could not do it, then it was unlikely that the Seraphim Lords could do it either.

Despite the hate between the two sides, there was grudging respect. They were all equal Lords of power after all. Neither were inferior or superior to the other, except for Azphel and Ariel, who stood higher than the others, equals to Siel and Israphel. She knew, for they had all fought alongside each other before the Cataclysm.

No matter what the people of Atreia believed, in truth, the Empyrean Lords did not have a solution to preventing the flow of either and the further decay of the Tower. They did not have any clear solution to end the Abyss War. While there were three sides, there could never be victory.

Ariel’s golden eyed gaze stared at the heart of the Abyss phantom. Somewhere out there was Beralin – Aion’s Key.

And Aion’s Key held the answer to prevent their oblivion.

* * * * *

I breathed sharply, clenching my jaw in silence as I pressed my hand to my side, while my other kept a firm grip around my dagger. The blood from the wound trickled through my fingers. It was warm and sticky.

The storeroom was silent and empty, aside from three dead Balaur and me. I went down onto my knees and began wrapping the bandages around my abdomen, practised hands moving automatically in practised ways. However, nothing could make the mind become used to pain, no matter how many decades or centuries passed.

I should not have been hurt in the first place and I kicked myself mentally over and over again. That swing was an easy one I could have dodged. Yet just as I was about to dodge, I was hit by a memory that I had forgotten, one that caused my body to jolt in shock rather than dodge.

As I wrapped the bandages around my abdomen, fragmented memories of the event at the Divine Fortress flashed through my mind like uncomfortable pulses of electricity, causing me to wince slightly each time. The voices bellowed in my head.

“_Retreat! Retreat!”_

_Surviving Daevas that could still stand, staggered behind exhausted defensive lines wh_ _ich_ _ were also gradually moving back to a safe distance to Teleport out._

“_Fall back! Divine Fortress is lost!”_

_I ground my teeth together. _Damn it! _I cursed, skipping back and cutting down the Balaur that tried to drag my fellow Daevas back to their torturous deaths._

_We were completely overrun._

I rested my head back against the solid wall behind me, closing my eyes and inhaling steadily, not too quickly or too slowly to cause any further pain, but to fill my lungs with air nonetheless.

_I remember that, _my mind whispered. I recalled that fragment; the first time in years since the event. Why could I not remember that before?

I brought my Cube out, selected a strong healing potion and drank it, feeling its warmth seep through my body and the pain gradually began to subside.

However, even though my body now felt better – though throbbing with Balaur poison magic – my mind did not. I pulled myself to my feet, pressing a hand against my skull as I struggled to see beyond the flickering memories that were flashing before my eyes in the darkness.

_The cannon strikes boomed against the wall that I and two other Commanders hid against. We flinched with each blasted impact, squinting against the dust and rubble that fell over our heads and shoulders. I looked at them, and they looked at me. We were all exhausted, all bloodied and wounded with no time to heal._

“_We need a distraction,” the Templar hissed. “Something to buy us enough time to get the Daevas out before we are completely overwhelmed.”_

_My eyes narrowed sharply. The Chanter and I exchanged a glance. _

“_We can do it,” the Chanter said. “We will create the distraction while you defend the Daevas escaping. I can call the Balaur to me and Beralin will strike them from behind.”_

_We all flinched as another cannon attack blasted against the wall, causing its cracks to spread across the stone. It would not hold for much longer._

“_It is risky,” the Templar said, his voice growing a touch softer. _

“_It has to be done,” I murmured, glancing up and watched the heavy smoke billow into the Abyssal sky. “We have a final Kisk each, and if those fail to work then we will see you back at Teminon.”_

_The three of us grasped each other’s arms firmly._

“_May Aion watch over us,” the Chanter breathed._

_We let go, and leapt to action._

My heart throbbed as I recalled that final meeting between the three of us. No matter how immortal the Daevas were, some damage could not be undone.

I left the storeroom, sneaking back out into the corridor while the memories continued to drift in and out of my mind. Unsuspecting Balaur fell under my blade as I snuck up on them. Their bodies were hidden in the dark corners of the flagship, letting their dark blood become one with the darkness where the light could not reach.

As I ducked from one corridor to the other, constantly following the flow of Aether to the bridge, I felt my eyes sting as I remembered another part of the event at Divine Fortress.

_The waves of Balaur increased. They kept coming with larger numbers, roaring and screeching, filling the air with their terrible voices that vibrated painfully against my eardrums. My reactions were getting delayed, my movements were slowing._

_I cut down three Balaur at once before they could reach the Chanter, but I missed the forth._

_Searing pain ripped down my back and I gasped in shock, staggering forwards. Slashed. I had been slashed at from behind. No one ever snuck up on me. _

_But my exhaustion had caused a Balaur to get the better of me. _

_As pain roared up and down my back from a wound I knew was deep enough to kill a normal human easily, desperation also flared. We were getting overrun. We could not keep up. But we had to try. We had to try as hard as we could!_

_I spun around with a grunt, decapitating the Balaur who had dared strike me from behind. However, that barely achieved anything. A dozen Balaur jumped me, twisting one of my daggers from my grip and I cried out as the bones of my wrist crunched. _

_My eyes were wide, desperately seeking the Chanter I was supposed to be defending from the shadows. I saw in time to see him become overwhelmed. His staff was ripped from him, his arms and legs were bound, a sword was driven through his abdomen. Something akin to an Aether bullet obliterated his skull._

“_Cedric!” I shrieked in horror._

Cedric should have returned to the Obelisk at Teminon Landing in the end, but he never did. No one ever saw him again after that battle. I was the last to see him.

I blinked hard, forcing away the sting of my eyes from the emotion that now came crashing through me as I remembered his final death. How could I have forgotten all of this? The Daevas back at Sanctum never knew what truly happened at the Divine Fortress in the end for I was the last one there. They had all asked me what had happened to Cedric, but I could never answer for I could not remember. His wife had never been the same since then.

So many had died under the Balaur. So many had also died under the Asmodians, but my hatred and anger was directed at the Balaur and their Lords, the ones who stepped beyond their station and tore the world asunder.

While the Balaur lived, there could be no peace.

I hurried down a corridor, staying one step ahead of a patrol of Balaur behind me. I rounded a corner, straight into a dead end.

Alarm flared and my chest tightened. The heavy footsteps of the Balaur steadily grew louder behind me. I turned around so my back was facing the dead end and I thought furiously about what to do. It was not often I was caught out like this. Usually I was familiar with a Dredgion blueprint, but this flagship was on another scale entirely.

That was not a good enough excuse. Truth was I could not concentrate. As the fragmented memories of Divine Fortress came flickering back, wave after wave of questions tumbled over my already confused mind.

“_What happened?” I groaned as I propped myself up. “How did I get to here?”_

“_Do you not remember?” Julius asked, helping me sit up._

“_Remember what?”_

“_Of what happened at Divine Fortress.”_

_Through my grogginess, I tried to think back. There was fighting, lots of fighting and screaming. Too many Balaur – then nothing. I pressed my fingers to my eyes with a slow exhalation. _

“_No. I can’t remember. It’s all blank. All I remember is that we were overrun. We lost the Fortress,” I sighed in defeat._

_Julius’s expression softened and something flickered through his eyes, too quick for me to catch what it was, but he shook his head once. “No, Divine Fortress was not lost. Your unit won it back.”_

_My eyes widened. “What? How?” I moved to get out of the bed when Julius gripped my shoulder gently, yet it was surprisingly firm._

“_It does not matter. For now, rest. The battle took a great toll on your body. I will be back with some tea for you.”_

Did Julius know what happened? Did he know how I retook Divine Fortress? They all knew I did something, but no one knew what exactly.

What was Julius hiding from me?

How could I have never noticed until now?! Why was I so obliviously blind? I was living in a bubble.

_Not for long,_ my heart whispered. The Balaur were almost here.

I could go invisible, but that would not last long enough, especially if they decided to stop at the entrance of the corridor and stay there. On all sides I was boxed in and I glanced up as thoughts and plans of escaping my predicament roared through my muddled brain.

Glancing up was the best move, for my gaze fixated on a barred opening to what I identified as ventilation vents. Relief exploded in my chest, mingled with the growing panic that my time was running dangerously thin.

I jumped from wall to wall, leaping up to the vent, grabbed a foothold and slid the bars off. The opening was just wide enough for my body, and so I wiggled through. It was tiny, narrow and dark. I slid the barred cover back on, and the Balaur came into view.

My breath stilled, while my heart hammered in my chest, filling my ears with its drumming. My back was clammy with sweat.

The Balaur guards, three of them, posted themselves at the entrance of the corridor. They were not going to move.

I closed my eyes and slowly let my breath out, feeling some of the tension flow out with it.

It was fine. I could find another way to the bridge through the vents. It may be more uncomfortable, but at least the chances of being seen were virtually nil.

Therefore I slithered quietly away. My eyes could see nothing in the blackness, and so I closed them and let my other senses be my eyes. Feeling the flow of Aether was my brightest guide in the dark, as if Aion led me in the distance with threads of rainbow light.

I kept sliding down and climbing up the vents, until I came across another opening that opened down to an empty room. After a few moments of silently judging whether it was safe to go down, I determined that there was no hostile enemy and so slid out, landing lithely on the ground. I took the opportunity to glance around me. The light here was dim but at least it was better than the dark claustrophobia of the vents.

Glancing around and slinking between the boxes, I found my exit and made my way over to the open archway with no door.

“You can’t go there!” A feminine voice whispered urgently and someone grabbed my hand.

Shock jolted through my system. There was someone else here?

I grabbed the hand that held mine, twisted around and clamped my other hand over the mouth of the stranger, pinning whoever it was against the wall in a heartbeat.

My eyes widened as I focused on my captive. It was a woman – an Asmodian to be exact. I narrowed my eyes and pulled my hand away cautiously from her mouth.

“What is someone like you doing here?” I hissed, not letting go of her completely in case she attacked me. That seemed unlikely however as she was shaking. Her eyes were saturated with fear. Her aura was very dim and weak, putting her as either a very strong human and an extremely weak Daeva, making this place no place for her to be.

“Please no hurt me,” she whimpered, her voice heavily accented while she spoke Elysean. “Please no hurt me. I know I Asmodian but please no hurt me.”

I frowned, my expression softening slightly. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you. Just tell me how you managed to get yourself on a Dredgion?”

The woman gulped and visibly tried to calm her panicked breathing. “I-I’m just raider, not even a D-Daeva. My patrol came across group of Balaur in Ishalgen. Broke through Abyss Gate created by the Mau. My patrol was killed and I-I captured.”

I let go of her and placed a firm yet gentle hand against her shoulder. So she really was not a Daeva at all, but human, caught up in a battle far beyond her control and power. I could not just leave her here. Asmodae may be the enemy of Elysea, but in this situation, we were all fighting against a common enemy. We were all the children of Aion.

But I could not abandon my mission for the sake of saving just one human. I sighed heavily and took her wrist.

“Come with me,” I said with finalisation. “I cannot leave you here.”

Before she could reply, I pulled her out into the next corridor and hurried down it. Her footsteps were loud and I winced internally at each step. There were Balaur around the next corridor and so I ducked into another room, pulling the Asmodian woman in with me and shut the door. She was breathing deeply and I pressed my ear against the door, listening intently.

“What you trying to do?” She panted.

“I’ve been sent on a mission,” I whispered, thinking it couldn’t hurt to tell her as she was a captive. “To assassinate this army’s Commander.”

There was silence and I continued listening for the Balaur outside. I was not expecting the giggle that followed. A frown creased my brow and confusion flitted through me. Who giggled? Or rather, why would anyone giggle in this sort of situation? Nothing was funny at the moment.

“Oh dear, I’ve blown my cover.” Her accent had completely changed, becoming fluent.

I froze. The aura behind me changed and a powerful pang of confused fear struck my heart. Slowly, I turned around, vaguely taking note of the room I was in – an armoury.

My gaze landed on the Asmodian behind me. She looked the same, yet it was like she was a completely different person. Her expression was twisted and warped, eyes blazing with terrible power that swirled lazily about her. It was as if she had two faces.

My daggers flashed out as I realised with dread that I had been tricked.

“Who are you?” I demanded.

She titled her head to the side and smiled lazily, lifting her hand to her side and the weapons in the room floated out of their resting places to hover in the air around her.

“Of course, you would not know this form of mine, no one does except for the Empyrean Lords and your brother,” she said through her smile, but spat the words of the Empyrean Lords and Julius.

My heart pounded hard in my chest as fear and panic began to rise beneath my cold and controlled composure. The power surrounding this woman was old, very old, and powerful, powerful in a way that was subtle for now but hid great potential beneath that could be beyond my comprehension.

Her mentioning Julius in the same sentence as the Empyrean Lords caused me to stiffen and my eyes narrowed viciously. “How does Julius have anything to do with this?”

Scales began to patch across the woman’s skin and the pupils of her eyes turned into slits – the slits of a Dragon. Something in me responded to the growing power, quelling the rising panic in my chest and replaced it with murderous intent against the challenge.

The woman smirked and the floating weapons about her pointed their blades towards me.

“Yes,” she hissed with two voices combined as one. “Those are his glowing eyes.”

The blades came closer, until they slowed against the force of my aura that now swirled in the air around me. My aura, combined with hers, caused the air to vibrate and buzz with power. The room began to shake.

“Who are you?”

She held her arms out to her sides and her hands elongated into great claws. A spiked spine ripped down her back and a tail rather than a main swished back and forth.

“I am the Commander you were sent to assassinate, young Daeva. I am the fifth Dragon Lord – Tiamat!”


	8. The Battle For Teminon Landing

The Battle For Teminon Landing  


Teminon, despite its white-washed walls and fleeting blossoms, had never been an entirely peaceful place. There was always some fighting going on nearby, with either a group of Balaur, or Asmodians who had foolishly tried to attack the Fortress directly. Such attacks always ended in failure, as was normal. No one could penetrate the defences of Teminon Landing. But of course, the enemies who tried to test that record could not see the bitter truth. They always learnt it too late.

Which was often a shame. It made Michael wonder how the higher ups of Balaurea and Asmodae trained their newly Ascended, for it was the newly ascended that came to attack such fortresses directly, too eager and cocky of their new-found power and ranking.

Then again, he could not say much, for he had seen plenty of newly Ascended Elyos make the same mistake. It seemed to be a universal feeling amongst living beings – hunger for power. And arrogance once achieved, following more and more greed.

_But we are not all like that, _he thought to himself as he continued to direct the flow of the battle. He had also seen plenty of Daevas who were calm and calculating, waiting with patience and care. Julius was one such man, as was Seregon who was more of a cold Asmodian than a sun-blessed Elyos.

The thought made Michael wince slightly with a pained and cheeky smirk. If Seregon ever heard what Michael had just called him mentally then the freezing Spirit Master would never let him have a moment’s peace, or rather, Michael would forever squirm under that frosty glare.

He glanced up, watching the lights of battle and explosions boom at the distant fifth ring, where Seregon commanded the Legions to repel the few Balaur that had managed to slip past Surion’s greatsword and glaive.

Michael did not feel too concerned, as it was indeed a very small number that managed to squeeze past Surion – before they would fall under the wrath of Seregon’s Spirits.

The Chanter turned his energies back to the distance ahead of him. Even though he could not see that far, he could see the Daevas coming and going. Some were delivering messages, others were retreating when they were too injured to continue, changing shifts with other Daevas that went to the front to take their places against the fight.

Michael also had to be one of the Daevas who kept his cool. And even though Surion was as hot-heated as ever, he too, made an excellent commander when the time arose. Because beneath that hot-temper was an expert fighter and militant. Even though he had a bad name from drinking and partying and womanising, he put his duty to Elysea first, no matter what others said.

It was why Surion was Julius’s Deputy, aside from Michael. Michael could not imagine the Gladiator in any other position. And true enough, the Gladiator would probably not like a position that was any lower. Michael could actually very easily imagine Surion as being his own Brigade General of a Legion.

_Michael and Surion sat at the bar, chortling and drinking away, joking and flirting with the women that passed them._

_The bartender wiped away at the table, before she finally leaned over, resting her heavy breasts on the surface. Michael raised an eyebrow._

“_I have been wondering this for a while now,” she said. “But, Surion, I have to ask, why are you the Deputy of an already existing Legion, when you could easily become a Brigade general of your own Legion?”_

_Michael raised the other eyebrow in faint dismay at such a question. What was this? Some sort of test of loyalty? A gentle nudge for Surion to abandon Sudryl’s Sword for more power? _

_Surion smirked and took a large gulp of his drink. Michael glanced at his friend, waiting with curiosity to hear what the man would say._

“_What do you think?” Surion questioned her back._

_She shrugged. “Well, it’s just that Lord Atherton – Pureblood as he may be – does not entirely look like Brigade General material.”_

_Michael snorted in faint laughter. “My dear, just because he is a Pureblood does not mean that he has to go around Sanctum wearing his finest clothes like the others, prancing on display like some pet Phoenix.”_

“_I never said –”_

_Michael leaned forward, silencing her as he tapped a finger beneath her chin gently. “Admit it. Almost every Daeva you see tries to always look as mighty and rich as possible, yes?”_

_Her cheeks were flushed red from his touch, and it took her a while to jerk a nod. _

“_And the more powerful they are, the more mighty they try to look, right?”_

_She nodded again._

“_So your question has no credence, for it is based off appearances,” he sighed, leaning back into his chair and letting her go. “True, Lord Atherton doesn’t do much for the eyes. But you would think twice before asking that question if you really did see him dressed appropriately and as fitting for someone of his ranking.”_

_The bartender rubbed the table in slow circles with her cloth. “Has anyone ever seen him dressed up?”_

“_Of course,” Surion answered, taking another swig of his drink which emptied his glass of the strong spirit. “I serve Lord Atherton for many reasons,” he said softly as he stared at his glass while the bartender refilled it. “His plain appearance is one of those. Many Daeva’s and Brigade Generals like to look their best all the time, to look powerful and intimidating, portraying the might of their Legion so obviously. Such appearances act as a guard to keep other Legions off their backs and wary of their power, or invite challenges from those who seek to be the better Legion. Often, a Legion who does not boast nor put themselves on display is the superior in nearly all aspects, particularly intelligence. _

“_Lord Atherton lacks the arrogance and unbelievable pride that most Brigade Generals have. He is calm, calculating, clever, patient and strict with unrivalled knowledge in all of Elysea. Why else do you think he is the supreme Sage of the Library of Sages? He is a leader who hides in plain sight, mingling with the common folk in their shoes, yet when the times arise, he will step up and clap, earning the attention of Elysea as a whole with just that one movement. No other Brigade General I know of can command such attention with even a single word. Fancy silks and feathers does not have to be worn on him to tell others that he is not a man to be trifled with._

“_And last but not least, have you ever seen him fight?”_

_The bartender had paused, and shook her head slowly. “No.”_

“_Not many have ever witness it,” Surion continued. “But we have . . .” he trailed off, watching the swirl of the liquor in his crystal glass. His eyes were glazed over. _

_Michael could see what his friend saw. _

_Surion snapped his gaze back up to the bartender, making her jump slightly and Surion grinned. “Let’s just say that if you are ever lucky enough to witness him in a full battle, then you would regret asking me such a question. My loyalty to, and respect in Lord Atherton is absolute. And, he is my friend.” He picked up his glass and toasted. “So, there’s a bunch of reasons. Pick your favourite.”_

_He downed his drink in one._

Thinking of that memory brought a tiny smile to Michael’s lips. Oh how that bartender had been rendered speechless by Surion’s reply. As was Michael for that matter. He did not expect his friend to come out with such a detailed and almost, heart-felt answer. Michael had been cruel enough to expect a classic block-headed answer from a glaive and sword swinger as ‘because he’s powerful’. But no, Surion was as thoughtful as Michael and the rest.

It was the same reason that everyone in Sudryl’s Sword had. They all served their Brigade General for all of those reasons, and perhaps many more. The Legion that stayed out of sight and did not abuse their power was often considered as the most feared of all.

Michael could use Lord Kaisinel as an easy example. He was a Seraphim Lord that was not spoken of often and remained withdrawn, but beneath that lack of attention, the Lord of Illusion was considered as one of the most feared of the Empyrean Lords.

Julius could be seen as something similar. Behind that smile and kindness, Michael could feel something stirring underneath, something which they had only ever caught faint snippets of during the rare occasions their leader came to the Abyss and fought.

It made Michael wonder about his Brigade General. How much of him did they not know of? Did Beralin know of the secrets that no one else did? After all, even though Michael was Julius’s right hand, Beralin was in fact his true, secret, right hand, lurking in his shadow where no one would realise.

They were like two halves of a whole. One of light and one of darkness. Julius was the light and Beralin was the darkness. But sometimes, it seemed like that role switched, and Beralin became the light and Julius was the darkness.

In truth, they were both strange people with hidden mystery.

But as was the pattern of balance, neither could live without the other. When Julius was in need, Beralin answered the call. When Beralin was in need, Julius reached out his hand to catch her.

Michael took a deep breath.

_Julius will come,_ he thought firmly. _Until then, I have to stand strong. I have managed so far, therefore I should be able to manage for longer._

“Commander Michael!” A messenger gulped, staggering up to him before kneeling down on one knee. “Brigade General Merihim’s Legion is stretched too thin at the southern flank of the third ring. Balaur are beginning to break through his defences. He requests reinforcements right away!”

Michael’s jaw clenched for a moment, thinking through his options without hesitation. “Have some of the Shield of Divinity Legion go and mobilise the southern defences with Merihim. We must not allow any more Balaur through. The fifth ring is already taking fire.”

The messenger nodded, and dashed away to the Shield of Divinity Legion’s leader to carry out the order. The Legion of the Shield of Divinity was set up many centuries ago by Lord Nezekan. It was a Legion primarily of Templars and Clerics, with some exceptions of other classes. But as the name suggested, the Legion was designed to defend. Their primary focus was on defence, not offence.

And it was one of the largest Legions of Elysea, led by Brigade General Sameth, a veteran Daeva of vast experience. He too, was on Teminon Landing, directing his Legion across the Abyss to the different rings which needed more defence than others.

“Commander Michael!” Another messenger called, causing Michael to turn around to see her arrive. “The western flank of the third ring has almost completely fallen. General Illuyanka calls for assistance immediately!

Michael clicked his tongue with a quiet hiss. That was not good news. He pointed west.

“Pull out Khamshin’s Legion from the fourth ring and send them to Illuyanka. The Balaur should be in for a little surprise to encounter the Wearers of Destruction Legion.”

The messenger looked relieved and nodded. “Yes sir, will do!”

As she dashed away, Michael frowned at the error that was made. Illuyanka was the Brigade General of the Eternal Watchers Legion, a Legion well known for their speed and patience, specialised more so in ranged melee and magical attacks, and assassination. While their offence was brilliant, their defence was not so.

Khamshin’s Legion of the Wearers of Destruction on the other hand were expert front line fighters in melee defence and melee attack. Had Michael and Surion been too stressed and swamped to notice that the two Legions should have swapped places?

_Too late now, _Michael thought bitterly. _The mistake has been made. Let’s just hope it can be rectified as soon as possible before more lives are lost._

The battle raged on. Legions were stretched thin between rings and ranks. It took all of Michael’s concentration to keep the communication between them all clear. Time seemed to drag, yet it also went so quickly. With every hour, Michael grew more and more concerned and fearful for those under his command. Just how much longer can people fight before they began collapsing one by one?

He had to ensure that the shifts rotated evenly. He had to ensure that everyone was able to be healed at some point. He had to ensure that even the Clerics and Chanters had a rest from their healing, otherwise they would collapse, and who would then be left to heal others?

It brought his thoughts back to Amia. He knew that she was doing well, and as a result, where she and Surion were, the defences were one of the best around Teminon Landing. But what if she worked herself too hard? What if she was injured, and was healing others before herself? It would be one of the stupid, innocent things that she would do, caring for others first before herself. It signified her good and pure heart, but also her naiveté and stubbornness.

“_How many times do I have to tell you, Amia? You cannot save anyone if you don’t save yourself first!” _He had once tried to pound into her brain. She had merely stuck her tongue out at him and marched away, leaving him sighing in frustration.

Concern after concern was beginning to pile on top of Michael’s already heavy shoulders. But he could not let his guard down, even by a fraction. He had to endure. He had to stand strong.

“Commander Michael.”

Michael’s internal fretting froze at the different tone of voice. He turned around, seeing three familiar faces behind him. They were three more Brigade Generals.

“We received an order from the Lady of Light to come and assist you,” one of them said, a woman.

Michael kept the relief that exploded in his chest from showing in his expression. Instead, he grinned.

“You are just in time for the fun, although it’s too bad you missed the most exciting bit right at the beginning.”

Another female General rolled her eyes, and she waved her hands in the motion of prompting someone to come closer to her.

“Come now, Michael,” she said eagerly. “Enough with the childishness. What do you want us to do? We are yours to command.”

“And don’t say something perverted in response to that!” The first woman warned, jabbing a finger at him.

Michael held his hands up in defence. “I was not going to, Generals.”

The third Brigade General stood there with his usual, impassive expression. He and Seregon got along very well.

Michael gave them their orders and they nodded as they listened. This was no time for jokes . . . well, not _too_ many. People needed to remain calm and feeling like they could endure and win. Michael’s light-hearted personality ensured that no one panicked – even if their opponent _was_ the Fifth Dragon Lord, Tiamat.

Thinking of the Dragon Lord caused Michael’s mouth to go dry, squeezing his chest so tightly that it was difficult to breathe. He prayed that Beralin had not encountered him yet.

“Two more Legions are on their way,” the third General said as he was about to depart, the other two having already left for their posts.

Michael nodded. “Alri –”

“No, they will not,” another voice said, a very familiar one and the two men whipped their heads to the side.

A third man strode up to them, causing their eyes to widen. Long, blond, plaited hair swayed behind him and his elegant cloth armour. It was armour that usually caused jaws to drop in awe from its elegance and presence, particularly when the owner was wearing it. It was legendary armour, decades in the making and imbued with power that most could only dream of.

The man’s glasses were gone, revealing piercing green eyes which could see all. His expression was calm, yet firm; quiet, yet with authoritative presence.

“Lord Atherton,” the General breathed, bowing immediately.

Julius nodded a returning bow in respect. “General Sirfilas. I am glad to see you have arrived.”

“Aye, with two others – the Guiding Lamp and Punishing Light Legions. But . . . what about the other two?”

“There is no need. The battle will be over soon,” Julius said, causing the General’s eyes to widen. “Three more Legions have more than enough power to keep the defences firm and repel the Balaur.”

“You have incredible faith,” the General said.

Julius smiled faintly. “I know the power of a Legion when I see one. I shall see you back here after our victory.”

The General nodded at the polite dismissal and let his wings spread mightily from his back, before carrying him into the air, leaving just Julius and Michael.

“The battlefield is one of the rare places where you use your true authority as Pureblood _and_ Brigade General, Julius,” Michael mused, unable to stop his smile. The relief in his heart was undeniable at seeing his leader.

“There is no need to use it, aside from here,” Julius said, gazing around him at the battle, before his eyes then locked in one direction.

The direction of the flagship. Slowly, Michael’s smile faded as he knew what was going through Julius’s head. His shoulders fell as they relaxed with grudging understanding.

“You will not be taking over from me, will you?” Michael asked with a sigh.

Julius shook his head with his own soft exhalation. “No, I will not. You are more than capable of directing this battle with Surion. You would not be my Deputies otherwise.”

Even though Michael did not want to completely acknowledge his own vain and arrogant side as a person, he could not deny the feeling of truth in his heart at Julius’s statement. He knew that they were both capable enough to direct and maintain this battle. And it was somewhere in Michael’s heart that he knew that Sudryl’s Sword was one of the most – if not the most – powerful Legion in Elysea.

The two looked at each other for a moment, holding each other’s gazes as equals, as friends, before Michael finally stepped to the side and bowed, indicating the he would not stand in his leader’s way.

“Bring Bera back safely,” he said softly.

Julius placed a firm hand on Michael’s armoured shoulders. “I will. That, I am certain of.”

His hand slipped away, and magnificent, snow white wings bloomed from Julius’s back, armoured with slender and spindly silver along the spine, with glowing green swirls rippling along the feathers.

The vast wings beat against the air, and with every powerful flap of the feathers, it pulled Julius higher into the air, before he flew fast and surely into the depths of the Abyss.

_Fly safely, _Michael prayed.

* * * * *

I shot up behind Tiamat, dashing low so that the air swept over my sleek form, allowing me to cut through it without resistance. Her head turned slightly and the flicker of movement caught my peripherals.

I ducked under the mighty Dragon’s tail that swung for my head, allowing me to twirl low beneath the incredible limb, my foot sweeping out along the dusty ground to keep my balance. That twirl brought me under Tiamat’s arm that was pulled back, leaving her torso exposed.

My teeth ground together as I came up beneath her from the front when I had been behind just a split second before. The chance was there while I still had the strength. I knew it was impossible for me to defeat a Dragon Lord. It shocked me that I was still standing for that matter.

All I needed was a single shot, a single chance to distract and injure her enough to allow me to escape. I had to get out. Every fibre of my being screamed it beneath the strained fear behind my thinning self-control.

This portion of the ship was disintegrating with every swing that Tiamat or I pulled. Her fiery eyes were alight with the lust and joy of fighting, of slashing and hacking, of destroying and displaying her unbelievable strength which seemingly dwarfed mine – me, who was a Guardian of Elysea, an expert in my profession. How I felt nothing more than a child in her presence.

Which could well be true. While I was only one hundred years old, she was near two thousand or more. She had millennia of experience, while I had barely one.

The Balaur which had come to aid their Dragon Lord’s fight on the ship had either been killed by one of us, or stayed back at her order. At first, I had been relieved, for that meant I would not be overrun by Balaur, and that Tiamat had some honour in her somewhere, to honour the rules of a duel between two people.

However, that relief turned to dread, for the result was that her entire attention was focused on me. It was impossible for me to escape the Dragon’s wrath, no matter how sly and cunning I could be in a fight. If the Balaur had fought on her side, then at least I could use them as a distraction, moving so that they blocked Tiamat’s path to me. At least then, I would have had some chances to escape her fury.

But that was most likely the very reason she told her soldiers to stay out of the way. There was nothing to distract her attention from me.

My jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in desperation. I swung my dagger up for the lightning fast stab that would plunge under her ribs beneath her axilla.

_Please! _My mental voice strained as the tip of my dagger came into contact with Tiamat’s varied skin between pale grey Asmodian and scaled Dragon.

I saw from the corner of my sight how Tiamat’s almost-stunned expression switched in an instant to faint amusement.

“Too slow!” Her doubled voice boomed out. Her massive tail met my side, turning my vision to nothing more than a shocked blur as the impact of the sharp and scaly tail sent pain exploding through my body, feeling all breath rush from my lungs.

My body crashed through another wall with a deafening blast, blending more pain into what already wracked through my body from the tail, before I then collided against a third wall with a force that cracked its foundations, but did not crumble.

The force sent my mind into unconsciousness for a moment, before I came to a split second later, slumped down against the wall, with my hands by my sides. Both were open, and only one had a dagger within the palm, but the fingers of that palm could no long close around the hilt of the weapon.

My vision swam sickeningly, my body throbbed with overwhelming exhaustion and agony. From my motionless stupor, I could feel the bones that were broken, and the warmth of the blood that seeped from the injuries across my body and head, trickling over my face and eyes.

The devastation of my failure began to sink into my heart.

I had lost.

Desperation kept my body moving up until now. The final impacts against the tail and through the walls were the final blow that severed my will power from my wrecked body.

I gazed through eyes which were blurred by blood and developing tears at the Dragon Lord who stood in the distance. Tiamat stood with that superior and proud stance, licking her claws which were stained crimson by my blood.

But she too was bleeding, cut and slashed, injured more so than what I could have ever hoped for. At least, that brought me a tiny shred of pride to my skills, for being able to do more than simply _touch_ a Dragon Lord.

However, unlike me, Tiamat still stood tall with excited eyes. Still with strength coursing through her limbs and muscles, as expected of an equal to the Empyrean Lords.

Faint anger flitted across my mind. I knew this would likely be a suicide mission, and I had been fine with it if my target had been a Brigade General. But here, I had been sent against a _Dragon Lord._

Had my superiors in Sanctum been aware of who commanded this fleet? If they were, then what message were they trying to send to me?

However, if they did not know, then I could not force the blame on them, no matter how much I suddenly wanted to with the hate that began to bubble in my weak heartbeat. If Julius was right, then that meant I would die for eternity.

Our last conversation flashed through my mind.

_Will I break my promise to Julius after all . . .? _I thought slowly in dismay, closing my eyes with terrible tiredness and hopelessness. My entire body felt so heavy. I was so tired. If only I could keep my eyes closed and sleep . . .

Sleep . . .

_: Open your eyes, Beralin._

The firm mental command struck a chord within my slipping consciousness, softly jerking my eyes back open.

_Who said that . . .? _My exhausted mind wondered in wariness, for it had not been my voice.

It was male.

My heavy gaze focussed on legs that stood in front of me, partly covered by a split dress. A tail swished behind it.

_Tiamat . . . _my mind whispered. Instead of my shoulders tensing, they fell further as a silent breath breathed out from my lungs. It was certainly not her who had said those words.

I dragged my eyes up, getting only as far as her abdomen, unable to open my eyes enough to look higher.

The nothingness I now felt within my chest, changed in a heartbeat to fear as a massive, clawed hand grabbed my neck and hoisted me high above the ground. The sudden movement sent my head spinning further with nausea. My dangling feet twitched, unable to touch the ground.

Tiamat’s blazing eyes stared up at me, searing through my skull like molten magma. I stared down at her through my matted black hair, my expression finally distorting into one of strain from behind the dizziness.

“I am disappointed, disappointed that the descendent of Sudryl is this weak. You do not deserve to stand next to Julius as his equal anymore,” Tiamat rasped. “You were stronger in the past.”

I flinched slightly.

_What . . .? . . . Sudryl . . .? _

I had never heard of that name before. And yet . . . it was more familiar than ever.

“Atreia will fall under Drakan rule once again,” Tiamat wheezed with triumph. “We will stomp out the mould of humans that crawl across our world. There is only room for one race of Immortals!”

I jolted as Tiamat’s grip around my neck tightened, cutting off what little air I had managed to suck into my starved lungs. In that instance, I could see the future that the Dragon Lords had in store for Atreia.

An already shattered world writhed in flame – and then nothing.

The Dragon Lords did not know or care for the Aether that was being lost to the Abyss. They had no idea that they had already begun the destruction of _their_ world when they broke the Tower eight hundred years ago at the peace talks.

Unbelievable fury erupted in my heart. How dare they? How. Dare. They!

My extinguished resolve was reignited with the spark of anger. We all lived on this planet. It was everyone’s duty to protect and guard what Aion had created.

At the same time as that spark, my eyes flitted behind my enemy.

A man stood there, dressed in the robes of the Ancient Atreians which was now only seen in history books. Hair that was layered came almost down to his waist, deep red like blood, yet bright and as wild as fire. His face was passive, yet familiar like those eyes – emerald eyes that were exactly the same as Julius’s . . . as mine . . . glowing eerily and held my gaze with firmness.

Instantly, I was struck with a blow of recognition.

_I know him . . . but where from . . .?_

He continued to hold my gaze. Something inside me, began to stir in answer to that green glow.

_: Use the power within you, Beralin, _his voice entered my mind. It was quiet, yet with commandment that I had to obey. _You must survive, and protect Atreia. That is your duty as Aion’s Key._

As I stared at him through squinted eyes, letting his words sink in through my fury like a blade of ice, I remembered.

I remembered how I took back the Divine Fortress.

_It seemed like an eternity as I stared in horror, watching as Cedric’s headless body fell into the tides of Balaur that overwhelmed him. My eyes could not believe what I was seeing. Cedric was older than me by a couple of decades, with just as many decades worth of experience in his veins. He was one of the best Chanters I had ever known aside from Michael. _

_And here I had just witness him killed before my very eyes. He should resurrect back at the final Kisk, however, that did not register in my mind. To me, to what I felt in my gut, he had just been killed forever._

_Half the Balaur turned their attention to me. The rest turned their attention to the remaining fleeing Daevas and the Fortress._

_Terror and rage erupted at once within my chest. Terror for the safety of the Daevas under my command and myself. Rage at the Balaur for killing so many _ _who_ _ could not return to Kisks, for Cedric, and for taking our Fortress with such brutality. _

_As the Balaur grabbed my arms and legs, about to rip them from my body, my vision began to change. Deep power bubbled up from the core of my Spirit, pulsing outwards in great waves that caused the Balaur to let go of me, staggering back in confusion and wariness. The ground started to shake as the air vibrated._

_I stood with my fists clenched, expression impassive but with eyes that blazed with fury. I knew this power within me. I had used it before, a long time ago. This ancient power was mine._

_Glowing green lines of light criss-crossed the space of the air all around me, spreading across the ground and over the rocks, threading through the solid objects and morphing around the buildings, the towers and the Balaur._

_I could see _everything. _There was no solidness to the material that was the fortress and the air. Everything – existence itself – was Aether. In this moment, I knew that this was how Aion saw it all. This was what existence and nothingness was. It was the flow of Aether, sometimes scattered with no form or pattern, and other times it was formulated into patterns to create things __which__ existed. It was threaded together in green that could be warped and bent according to the manipulators will . . . and ripped._

_My eyes seared through the walls, mounds, bodies and hills to the Balaur _ _who_ _ began to overrun the Fortress. A low breath escaped through my clenched teeth as I uncurled my fingers, releasing the tension in my body._

_The power within seemingly took over half of my body and mind, working in perfect harmony with me as Beralin. _

_I would not let the Balaur win this fight. And I knew . . . I knew I had the power to stop them here and now – alone._

_I raised my hand towards the Fortress, seeing through it all to the Balaur inside. With the direction of my will, powered by my numbness at the horror of the slaughter, the anger of their destruction, the sudden superiority of my power, I halted the movement of their Aether, immobilising those Balaur where they were. _

_Their Aether shivered with sudden terror, confusion and horror at the force and will that held them like puppets on string._

“_Get out of our Fortress,” I whispered. _

_It did not register in my mind how my voice sounded strange and ethereal, sighing out across the distance._

_I gradually brought my hand back towards my chest, snipping the strings of Aether that kept the Balaur under my control, from the connection to the Aether of Atreia._

_Their howls echoed out of the Fortress walls, following the Balaur that came running out as their comrades disintegrated before their eyes._

_The Balaur surrounding me took further steps back, pointing their glaives at me in abrupt hostility with violent snarls. My eyes flickered to them as I turned around, facing the Balaur army behind me that continued to disembark from ever more arriving Dredgion ships._

“_What did you do, scum?” A Centurion Balaur snarled __in her native tongue__, stepping up to me._

_I looked straight through her, my fists clenching once more. I prepared my mind for what I was about to do next, feeling nothing, no guilt. I could feel the Balaur all around me through the strings of Aether._

_My mind was set. Silence fell over my turmoiled mind and heart._

“_Leave__.”_

_The great wave of disintegration swept through the ranks of Balaur. A cacophony of howls and roars surged over the Fortress Island in the Abyss, echoing out into the distant darkness of emptiness and nothingness, the great rift between worlds that should never have been born._

_The wails of entire Balaur Legions were lost as they were wiped out, their remains sighing into the Abyss breezes like ash blown into the wind_

As I remembered, a staggered gasp wheezed through my clenched jaw. My dismay at the horrific power and memory was swallowed by that same power which surged through my body, from the darkest regions of my core that I had no conscious access to.

Half of me was mortified at this strangeness, yet another half felt nothing but familiarity.

I had used this power before, more than once.

The first being that night where Sophie lost her mind, where I first saw those green threads, when I first saw Julius’s eyes glow – like the man in the distance behind Tiamat.

. . . Like mine.

My vision swam as Tiamat’s grip tightened further. A maddened snicker began to spill from her wide smile. Her eyes were wide with twisted glee.

“There!” She breathed, her breath hot against my face. “Those eyes, the same as theirs.” Her eyes narrowed sharply, her smirk tightened and the glee changed without warning to rolling fury. “How I wish I killed them!” She hissed.

Something in what she said triggered the final release as panic finally erupted in my heart. At this rate, I was going to be dead within barely a few minutes. However, that panic gave way to something else – a deep, deep rage; born from my hate for the Balaur, how they destroyed the world and caused the deaths of so many millions, how they held themselves with such arrogance and brutality, how they seemed to know so much more about Julius than I . . . how one of their Lords was about to take me away from him forever.

The green threads criss-crossed my vision immediately, turning my world to shimmering and glowing embroidery of liquid emerald and jade like starlight.

There was no more physical-ness to objects, no more solidness, no more boundaries that I could not cross. It was all just Aether, sewn together into an endless, magnificent tapestry that could be weaved – and undone.

As my entire world changed around me, I saw that man one last time. He was surrounded by an aura unlike any other, just like Tiamat. It was the aura of a Lord, an Empyrean Lord, where it appeared that he was Aether in itself, glowing so brightly it was blinding, yet it did not blind, and it was Aether which was too loosely sewn into the tapestry that I could see and manipulate. The edges frayed into wafting mist, guarded by a higher, divine power that was beyond any living being’s reach.

Untouchable.

He gazed across at me. His expression was gentle, yet with sadness.

And he faded, becoming the Aether and flowing as fast as light to perhaps the other side of Atreia in a heartbeat.

Upon his departure, my waning awareness focused back to myself . . . and Tiamat.

Despite the awe and fear I felt towards her, despite seeing truly how magnificent her aura was as an Ascended Lord, I realised then and there something impossible.

With this power and my fragmented memories, I realised that I did not know who I was in truth. However, that made me understand something with frightened, yet overwhelming awe.

I had the power to win.

As that epiphany came to me, my eyes widened and the pain in my expression fell to nothing. All emotion voided my face, turned internal.

My hands grabbed Tiamat’s thick wrist with a speed that wiped the smile from her face, her eyes narrowing further as she realised I would fight back.

I brought my gaze down to look at her, feeling my fury boil up with my power. Our eyes locked. Her eyes, her presence, her aura, were suffocating.

I wanted space. I wanted to be free. Free from her grip, free from this room – free from this ship.

The threads obeyed my mental command as I willed them to burst like a bubble between Tiamat and I. It exploded with unbelievable force, ripping the two of us from each other violently, buffering against the shield of Aether I weaved to cocoon around me, absorbing the majority of the blast as I was forced back, skidding along the rubbled ground on my hands and knees.

My head snapped up. A great sphere-shaped crater had imploded above and below where we had just been. I knelt at one end, Tiamat stood at the other, separated by falling debris as the rest of the ceiling fell, followed by more as the cracks from the explosion ruptured their way across the walls and floors along the weakest pressure points.

I could feel it, the threads snapping, gradually breaking the flagship that housed its Commander and I. I did not feel horror or dismay at the fact that the entire ship was falling apart where I stood, or that I would fall with it. My body and mind were fuelled by this strange power while my persona had retreated behind the near-subconscious of exhaustion and pain.

My eyes narrowed in dulled frustration at seeing Tiamat still standing despite the explosion of Aether. I could not bend her Aether enough. She was too powerful.

However, she did look shocked.

Tiamat stood with her legs braced against the violent shuddering of the ship as it crumbled. Its engines faltered and its sail through the Abyss began to slow . . . and sink.

“Damn you,” she snarled as I stood. She waved her arm up and around, as if drawing a circle. Fire followed its path, drawing the circle and expanding to become a sphere of screaming and rolling fire, concentrated so tightly into one small space.

Tiamat threw her hand towards me and the great sphere of burning fire spun with the force and speed of a meteor.

Therefore it took less than a split second to bridge the gap between us.

Part of me was horrified, yet I did not step back. I raised my hand, the Aether threads weaving together in an instant to form a wall.

The sphere smashed against it with another deafening explosion, blinding everything with the light of its eruption. Against my shield, its raging path soared up and down instead when it had nowhere else to go, splitting the flagship in two.

The wall of Aether rippled like water against the after-effects of the blast and it fell, leaving its hot wind to wail past me. I narrowed my eyes through the smoke and dust and fire.

Tiamat still stood on the other side, a rolling shield of lava-like magic glowing around her as enormous, leather wings flapped behind her.

My side of the ship was falling into the Abyss, upon which the thunderous echo of the explosion still reverberated into. I ground my teeth together, finally some of my original self as Beralin returning as I finally had space.

Tiamat glared down at me. It was like her presence was a weight that pressed so heavily on my shoulders to make me kneel. More scales spread across her body which grew bigger and longer, deforming in a gradual change to the true Dragon that was she.

Mortification spread through me. I knew she had not been fighting at full power, but now she was turning into a Dragon, and my consciousness was slipping with the knowledge that I had done my mission of destroying the flagship. Mind and body wanted to so desperately rest.

But I had to stay awake!

Yet I was already falling to my knees.

_That power . . . it’s taken all the energy I have left . . ._

“You win this battle, young Daeva,” her voice boomed. “But I will not forget this. With yet another one equivalent to our power, we will show no mercy!”

The force of her voice was like a harsh punch to the abdomen that winded me.

Her true form as a Dragon soared above me in terror and horror, making anyone who looked upon such a form to realise how puny they were against such creatures.

_But that is just a physical form . . ._ my retreating power whispered as my tired eyes drooped. _Abandon physical appearances . . . the flow of Aether is the true judge of power. The Empyrean Lords are their equal, and our Lords have no such monstrous form._

The great wings of Tiamat beat against the air, displacing the falling Dredgion and the destroyed ones around it, spewing metal, rock and fire in all directions like a violent storm of debris. The Dragon Lord soared high and opened its maw, releasing a terrible roar and shook the very air of the Abyss itself with power.

In that roar, was the Balaurian command to retreat.

Undeniable relief surged through me. We had won!

But I could not celebrate, not when I knew I had to get off this sinking ship, and that I could not as my body could not pick itself up from where I knelt.

I closed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw in disbelief and defeat.

_I have to get up . . . I must . . . get . . . up!_

* * * * *

As the woman on the destroyed and sinking ship began to slump forward, a winged being materialised beside her out of the air like a wraith. Yet that is not what people would have described him as. They would have described him as an archangel, wearing armoured robes of grace and power, with pale skin than glowed like sunlight, with golden hair that shimmered like molten gold. The edges of his body, his robes and his hair misted away at the edges, as if he were an ethereal ghost. His green eyes were calm, yet sorrowful as he caught the unconscious woman and pulled her into his embrace.

He lowered his head beside hers. His lips moved.

A silent whisper.

Before he then looked up once, staring after the retreating Dragon with eyes that held a silent hatred as old as time itself.

Then, he closed his eyes softly, and looked back down, standing up with the woman cradled in his arms. Both he and she misted away, merging into one light, and streaked through the sky into the darkness of the Abyss.

Towards Teminon Landing.


	9. Victory's Pain

Victory's Pain  


An earth shattering boom caused almost everyone on Teminon Landing to stagger. Michael braced his feet apart, eyes wide and on heightened alert. He, along with most others, glanced towards the source of the boom in the Abyss.

It came from the same direction as the main battle, in the direction that Julius had flown off to. In the distance, there was a great flash of light, followed by that explosion and the shake through the air of the Abyss.

Dulled horror at such a catastrophic explosion spread through his veins like poison.

_What in the world was that?_ He thought, gripping his staff.

What in Aion’s name could have caused something so destructive?

The flickers of light from whatever destruction happened in the distance continued to flicker, followed by another massive boom, causing Michael to flinch. Only someone with the power of an Empyrean Lord could cause something like that from a distance that was too far for any to see.

Could that have been caused by the Dragon Lord Tiamat?

Concern clutched Michael’s chest. Had Beralin been caught up in that blast?

That thought made Michael’s face pale as the blood left the skin. Surely that did not happen. Julius promised that he would bring her back.

But wait . . . what did Julius say before he departed?

“_The battle will be over soon.”_

What did Julius do? Was that explosion caused by him? Did he just win the battle?

Michael wanted nothing more than to wish it was so. However, no matter how much he wanted to relax back and leap up and down, hoping that Julius was right, he could not. Michael still commanded this army.

Snapping himself back to focus, realising that that short moment of distraction could well have meant they had lost the battle, he snapped out orders.

“Don’t break ranks! Push back the Balaur!”

The stall from action, erupted back around him again as the Daevas were jolted back to what was in front of them.

The fighting continued. Yet Michael could notice something different. The Elyos front lines were fighting better. Less were retreating, the defences were holding and even –

Even turning into offence.

Michael perked an eyebrow up. What was going on with the Balaur ranks? Did that explosion rip their moral?

_Then . . . would that mean that something went wrong on their side?_

As Michael began to think through of what could be happening – as well as taking into account the probability that this could well be a trap to make the Elyos feel hope, before crushing it – a messenger knelt before him. It was one of Surion’s.

“The Balaur are retreating! Surion has given the command to push them out completely!”

Michael – despite his military training – could not help but feel a small smile twitch at the edge of his lips. It took all of his power to not let it loose into a full-blown grin. Somewhere in his heart, he could feel that Julius had been right.

Already, he could begin to hear the great roar of battle grow louder with determination. The fearful and worried expressions of the Elyos transformed into the same determination of their new battle cries, filled with the strength of their land and the desire to protect it at all costs.

Michael nodded and turned. “Follow Surion’s command! Give chase to the retreating Balaur as far as the fifth ring! Push them out! But don’t go any further. Keep in mind this could still be a trap! A surprise attack could be pending!”

The nearby sub-commanders shouted their agreement, and despite everyone’s better judgement, grins began to break out amongst the ranks, fighting with a new strength that they did not know they possessed.

A good portion of Michael wanted to cheer as they did, but he knew he could not relax. The battle was not over, and he would not rest until his Brigade General and Centurion returned safely.

More hours passed. Michael and Surion directed half of the army to pursue the retreating Balaur to cut down as many as possible before they all completely escaped, taking down as many Dedgion Ships as they could. The remaining half stayed behind at their respective rings, catching the Balaur who fell behind, and to stay put to defend Teminon in case the Balaur retreat had indeed been a trick.

Michael’s heart pounded with adrenaline, still just as strong as the moment when Surion sent the message that their enemies were retreating, hinting that they had attained victory.

But at what cost? Despite Michael’s optimism, it did make him wonder how were they able to repel the battle-thirsty Fifth Dragon Lord when not even a Seraphim Lord commanded the Elyos ranks.

_Well, at least it should mean that we’ve cleared up our reputation for stupidity and trouble-making,_ a small voice within Michael’s mind chuckled. _No one would ever question our Legion on anything. _

Something caught his attention from a somewhat quieter part of the Landing, near the buildings and Michael’s attention immediately snapped to it.

It was a silent figure on white wings. It only took a split second for Michael to recognise who it was. He took it in a second.

Julius’s wings faded from his back, his expression was controlled, but Michael saw what lay behind the eyes; an expression of well concealed rage, horror and hate. Michael’s gaze dropped to the figure the Pureblood held effortlessly in his arms.

An unconscious and bloodied Beralin lay in his firm grip.

Michael’s eyes widened, almost feeling his heart stop at seeing his friend in such a state. The horror washed over his face. He stared at the two, at Beralin.

Of course he had seen her bloodied and a mess plenty of times from previous missions where things did not always go according to plan. But he had _never _seen her injured, unconscious, and with an expression beyond exhaustion all at once. Separately, yes; but never that combination combined.

He could barely feel her aura.

His gaze turned back up to Julius, his eyes asking the question that his frozen lips could not mouth.

What happened?

Julius closed his eyes briefly, before meeting his gaze again. Michael could not see any answer in those emerald eyes. They were unreadable.

The Pureblood gently indicated his head to a side entrance as he began to turn that way.

“Is that Lord and . . . and Lady Atherton?”

Michael turned to look behind him. Helena – General of the Guiding Light Legion – had been with him as he was directing the chase and temporary mobilisation. The warm-hearted Daeva’s face wore an expression of confusion and growing dismay mingled with concern. Her eyes held the same question as Michael’s.

He turned to her, his expression straining slightly behind the control. “Helena, do you mind taking over for a moment?”

It took her a few moments to bring herself back under her composure and she smiled gently, nodding. “I’ll be fine. Go. You’ll need to heal her as quickly as possible.”

Michael gasped her shoulder in thanks, before he strode towards the door that Julius had used. He followed his leader’s general flow of Aether until he came into a simple relief room with a few beds for recovery.

Julius was just laying Beralin down on one of them.

“Holy Aion!” Michael swore as he burst into the room, finally seeing Beralin close up. Her leather armour was ripped and burned; her skin was slashed and covered in dirt and blood; her skin was paler than usual, hair matted with that same blood in a mess around her head and shoulders; her expression was not peaceful. It was pained.

“What the heck happened?” Michael practically demanded, moving to Beralin’s other side immediately and hovered a glowing hand above her body, running down her length from head to toe, assessing the damage quickly so he could begin healing quickly.

Her state was not good, that was for sure. Bones were broken, various ligaments and tendons had been ripped or snapped. Muscles were bruised and bleeding. Not to mention on the surface there was more red than white.

Michael cast some instant healing spells, enough to only just stabilise her body internally, and glanced back up at Julius when the man gave no reply.

“Julius –!” Michael began with the tone of dismay and anger filled with the demand, ‘how could you allow this to happen to the one person who is most precious to you?’

However, Michael cut himself off as that one glance up at the Sorcerer caused him to look back up again with wider eyes and a pause.

Julius was paler than usual, one hand against the rail of the head of the bed, leaning as if tired and his eyes were focused only on Beralin.

Just this once, Michael saw a different side to Julius. He saw just a simple man, a man who had fallen silent with fear over almost losing the most important person to him. And that would have almost happened if Beralin had been captured by the Balaur.

There was undeniable guilt in those emerald eyes. Guilt and sorrow.

Michael’s expression softened and he shook his head once, turning his attention back to Beralin and healing. “Never mind,” he said softly. “Now is not the right time to explain.”

Julius’s gaze flickered back up to Michael.

“But I need to know if it is safe for the troops to return to the rings and repair them,” Michael said with a questioning tone. “Have we really attained victory?” He added quietly.

It was a while before Julius replied, watching carefully as the various wounds began to stabilise and heal. He only nodded once. “Yes,” he said gently. “This battle goes to us. Tiamat has indeed fallen back to Balaurea.”

The surge of relief and triumph that went through Michael’s body would have been stronger if he had not been so worried instead. Even if they had won, Julius did not look happy, and it was no surprise. Victory or defeat meant nothing to him if Beralin was in the picture.

“That explosion. Was it the flagship?”

Again, another long silence.

“Yes,” Julius said.

Michael watched him for a while, half expecting him to elaborate on how the flagship had gone up with such a blast, and if it had been Beralin’s work or his. But Julius said nothing more, his expression once again, unreadable.

Michael sighed internally. He had to be patient like his leader. Eventually the answers would come to him, but until then, Michael would have to wait and concentrate on the tasks at hand.

His jaw clenched and he cast another healing spell. They were not taking very good hold in Beralin’s body.

He called a Daevic Scout to the room. The woman bowed immediately in their presence.

“Send a message to Surion and Amia. Tell them that Lord and Lady Atherton have returned, and if possible, have Amia return to the Landing,” Michael told her.

Despite being a Chanter of great skill in buffing, healing and combat, a Cleric was still ideal when it came to healing and Amia was the best healer in the Legion. Michael needed her to come back and take over. And even though Michael wished he could stay and aid in the healing, he still had to return to ordering the clean-up of the battle’s aftermath.

He could not quite work out why his spells were not holding as effectively as they should. And with so much on his mind at once, even Michael was struggling to keep focused.

He needed Amia here.

The Scout nodded. “Understood,” she said sternly, rose, and left without a second, curious glance at Beralin or Julius.

* * * * *

A number of hours had passed since the Balaur retreat. Surion and Amia stayed in the rings, sending others to go the outer rings to begin repairs of the defences.

Amia was exhausted, but she tried as hard as she could to not let it show. No matter what, her exhaustion could not be visible. She kept looking to Surion for strength, taking his example of sturdiness as her own. It was understandable for him though. He was a Gladiator of great strength and stamina.

Even after all the fighting, he still stood tall and strong, bellowing out orders with a voice as loud as since the beginning of the battle. The little Cleric partly envied Surion’s great strength. Indeed he was an incredible commander, like Michael. They worked so well together even though the two were commanders of different sorts.

From the rings that centred around Amia and Surion, Amia was in charge of the healing. Even though the Balaur had retreated, the adrenaline kept roaring through her blood-stream, not giving her a moment to rest and take note of how heavy her chain armour was on her small body. The weight never bothered her usually as she was used to it after decades of training. She knew though that as soon as she had the chance to sit down, it would feel like a mountain weighed down upon her shoulders.

She had her mace clipped back to her belt and had set down her shield somewhere safe now that she no longer had to carry it. _That_ was definitely an extra weight which she did not want to have on her back at the moment.

Amongst the chaos of healing broken Daevas, Amia still cast wary glanced out into the Abyss towards the dissipated source of the explosion. The rumour was that it had indeed been the destruction of the flagship, and Amia being Amia, had leapt up and down in glee with a cheer.

Beralin had been successful in her mission!

The relief in Amia’s heart had been overwhelming. She could do almost nothing but fret with fear as soon as word was discovered that Lord Tiamat led the attack on Teminon Landing. She had almost been struck down from behind when that news came out, too distracted with the horrifying realisation to notice her surroundings.

Surion had defended her.

“_Focus Amia! I can’t afford to have you taken down so early in the battle! Not to mention Michael would never let me hear the end of it!” _Surion had yelled.

“_But what about Bera? Where is Bera?” _She had almost whimpered back at the top of her lungs.

Surion had given her a firm look that did not tolerate weakness, and it gave Amia strength. _“Trust in Bera, wherever she is. She has her own purpose in this like the rest of us, and we can only succeed if we stick to our roles. So concentrate on your duty!”_

Amia blinked back to reality as she finished casting a group healing spell. She snorted very gently to herself.

Surion had never been gentle with words. And a lot of people hated him for his bluntness and straight-forwardness. However, behind all that was a very clear message that gave people around him strength, determination, courage and confidence. He was someone that anyone could rely on, whether it was something as stupid as pulling off a prank at Sanctum to cause chaos and havoc, or directing such a massive battle to defend the whole of Elysea.

After that, Amia forcefully swallowed her fear and worry down, feeling them sink like rocks into her stomach, and had carried on with her duty just as Surion had ordered. She was thankful that he had verbally slapped her. It focused her mind, concentrating on her task, and it was a task that needed every ounce of concentration.

Of course though, she did feel a little sulky at having a friend treat her in a harsh manner, but that was just Surion. Hot-headed, direct, and humorous in many ways.

Amia continued to direct the Clerics and Chanters and Musicians to the groups that needed healing and support, shouting in her high voice and pointing from group to group. Surion was no too far away from her. They still stood strong. They could not show their tiredness. Even if the Balaur had retreated, there was still another half of work to be done. Fighting was the first half. Clearing up was the second.

Another Daeva came up to her, a Scout.

“Commander Surion, Amia,” the Daeva breathed deeply.

Amia turned to her and smiled. “Yes?”

Surion turned from where he was, raising an eyebrow.

“I have a message from Commander Michael,” the Scout said, leaning a little closer so that her voice could be hushed.

Amia’s eyes widened, as well as feeling the usual flutter in her heart from hearing Michael’s name. And having the ‘Commander’ title in front of it made her legs feel strangely wobbly. She knew what it was and she smirked internally at herself for being a pansy.

Surion strode over. “What news from Michael?”

“Lord and Lady Atherton have returned to Teminon Landing. Michael asks if Amia could return as well,” the Scout informed them.

Amia gasped a little, while Surion stiffened ever so slightly beside her.

Beralin and Julius were back?

Glee exploded in Amia’s heart, followed very quickly by sudden concern. Why did Michael call Amia back?

She looked up at Surion and he frowned, thinking silently. Until he then nodded, his expression softening slightly.

“Go,” he said to Amia, nudging his head in the direction of the Landing. “I think you’re needed back there more than here.”

Amia turned to face him. “Will you be alight to manage here?” She asked, feeling some guilt taint her words. She did not like to leave when in the middle of something, having to let her friends take over her burdens and duties. But she also desperately wanted to go back to the Landing, feeling dread gnaw at the pit of her stomach.

Surion chuckled and clapped her on the shoulder. It sent her a step forward from the weight of his hand, something that he seemed to be oblivious to no matter how many times she and Beralin had told him.

“I’ll be fine. I can take things from here,” he said. “Now go. You don’t want to keep Michael waiting.”

Despite the _hell_ they had all been through in the past few days, Surion still said that last utterance with a cheeky waggle of his eyebrows.

Amia scowled, grabbed her mace and gently thwacked him around the head with it, gentle enough to not crack his skull, but hard enough to cause him to yelp and press a hand to the side of his head.

“You deserved that! Hmph!” Amia harrumphed. And with that, she turned on her heels with her nose held high and stalked away with the Scout, casting to spell to take them back to Teminon Landing a moment later.

She materialised at the Obelisk of Teminon, surrounded by Daevas dashing to-and-fro with messages or materials or anything, rushing from place to place as the previous fighting turned into repairs.

“Where are they?” Amia asked the Scout.

The Scout pointed. “In that building, downstairs on the east side.”

Amia nodded her thanks and dashed towards the white building, frowning as she hurried. The underground rooms were very quiet and secluded. Why would Michael, Julius and Beralin be down there out of sight?

Amia’s chest began to tighten. She did not have an entirely good feeling about this. What damage had Tiamat done to her best friend?

The little Cleric weaved in between the Daevas that always seemed to tower over her, much to her greatest regret. She was always getting teased about her height. Yet secretly, she somewhat enjoyed the attention, especially from Michael, even though he infuriated her.

She entered the building, hurrying down the corridor and stepped down the stairs as quickly as her little legs would allow her, following the two enormous Daevic presences of Julius and Michael. However, she could barely feel Beralin’s . . .

“Michael!” She called as she turned left at the crossroads and burst into the empty recovering room.

Two heads looked up upon her entrance. One was Julius, standing on the other side of the occupied bed with an expression that was unreadable, yet it chilled Amia’s skin to ice, as well as caused a strange constricting pain in her chest around her heart.

The other side had Michael on a chair with his back to the door. He was still clad in his full chain armour too and he glanced behind briefly. His expression was exhausted, as well as rife with concern, slight confusion, and now upon seeing Amia, it was relief. It brought a gentle happiness to Amia to see his expression change like that upon seeing her.

“Amia, thank Aion you’re here,” he exhaled explosively. His glowing hands hovered over the third motionless figure.

A bloodied and torn Beralin was the focus of the two men’s attention. She was unconscious, and Amia let out a strangled cry of shock and horror.

“What happened?” She whispered, moving to Michael’s side, dragging her eyes up from her best friend for a moment to look at the other two, her eyes filled with the desperation to know how this happened.

Michael did not look up, keeping his focus on the healing. His silence had Amia glance down at him briefly. What did that silence mean? That he did not know?

She returned her big blue eyes to Julius.

“She was forced to fight Tiamat,” he said quietly.

Amia felt her heart drop into her stomach. “But that is madness!”

Julius’s eyes flashed up to hers. “What choice did she have? She was sent to assassinate their Commander. No one knew that the Balaur Commander was the Fifth Dragon Lord, neither did she, until she met the Lord on the flagship.”

There was a sting to his words, subtle, yet enough to make Amia flinch. However, she knew that his internal and seething anger was not directed at her dim question, but at the ones in Sanctum who had ordered Beralin to carry out this mission.

But it was not their fault either. No one knew who the Balaur Commanders were until it was too late. At least it explained the enormous scale of the enemy fleet.

Only such a leader could direct an army of that size. But even though Beralin was a Pureblood of excellent skill, so much so that she had yet to die, Beralin was still a Daeva, not an Empyrean Lord, or even on the same footing as Julius. To fight a Dragon Lord himself . . .

Amia felt the blood drain from her face, beginning to fully grasp just how close Beralin could have been captured or worse – Displaced for eternity.

The horror of it sunk in. If Beralin had been captured, then all of them – Sudryl’s Sword – would do everything in their power to get her back. But Displacement was something that even the Empyrean Lords could not reverse.

Amia gulped. Her mouth was dry. Beralin had come so close to it, yet Julius had managed to save her somehow. Even though she was unconscious and injured, covered in blood and dirt, her best friend was still alive.

Amia sucked in a shuddering breath. And clenched her fists.

“What can I do?” She asked firmly from behind the quiver in her voice.

“You are the superior healer of the Legion. I need you to take over healing,” Michael said. “I’m too stressed to try and work out why my spells aren’t as effective as they normally are. They can’t seem to take a firm enough grip in Bera’s body so their effectiveness is only half or less of what it should be.”

Amia frowned, immediately thinking through all the decades of learning, recalling scrolls of knowledge from her speciality, ranging from the basics of when she had first Ascended, to now where her knowledge was of some of the most advanced.

Michael looked back up at her. “Can you?” He asked gently. She could see in his eyes that he was stumped, as well as concerned about a thousand things at once. She knew that he also had to return to directing the repairs on the defences with Surion and the other Generals.

She nodded quickly, taking Michael’s place on the seat as he stood and she sat down. Instantly she threw a hand over Beralin, a rippling blanket of light stretching over her body like a narrow, oval-shaped dome and Amia placed both of her hands against it.

“Thank you, Amia,” Michael said softly, placing a hand against her back. That one, kind touch calmed her heart and nerves, and a gentle smile touched her lips.

She did not take hers eyes off Beralin, but from the corners of her eyes she saw Michael straighten.

“I will go back directing the repairs on Teminon,” he said.

Julius nodded. “I will join you later once I can be sure Bera has stabilised enough.”

“Alright,” Michael said, before striding out of the room.

Amia returned her focus to Beralin, taking a deep breath, and closed her eyes, seeing with the strands of her magic that sunk through Beralin’s body, layer by layer, assessing the damage that had been done. Bones were broken, tissues, ligaments, muscles and tendons had been torn. Some of them were healed to the basics with Michael’s magic, but they were not in as good condition as Amia had been expected of Michael’s magic.

She felt her brow crease as she analysed deeper, wondering why that was the case. Normally in healing, the magic clung to the tissues that were in need, for the tissues and bones had their own calling, drawing any healing towards it like opposite poles of a magnet. Like the positives and negatives in the atoms and electrons that the Engineers were most knowledgeable in.

However, in Beralin’s body, instead of her tissues being the positive or negative, it was more like they were neutrons. It had no pull or push, therefore Michael’s healing was not drawn towards it as well as it should have been.

Amia’s eyes opened in shock.

“What is it?” Julius asked, concerned.

Amia blinked, narrowing her eyes and her hands slowly waved up and down across the dome. “I’ve only seen this is very rare cases. The tissues are not drawing on the healing magic because they are too drained to have a pull anymore. It explains why Bera has such a weak aura now. There’s barely any energy left in her.”

She saw Julius’s shoulders sink. “She used too much power,” he said, his voice barely audible.

Amia glanced up at him briefly, wanting to stand and place a reassuring hand on his arm, but she could not. Instead, she said, “It should be fine though. I can heal her, but it will take a while. I’ll heal her enough so that she is stabilised, then it may be a good idea to move her back to Elysea for the rest.”

Julius nodded in agreement. “That is what we will do.”

She continued to heal, still frowning. This sort of state was only ever brought about as Julius said, if the user used an immense amount of power and energy to drain them to a state where their Daevic signature had diminished so much it was barely noticeable anymore.

The faint flash and eruption of the explosion of the flagship flashed in her mind’s eye, causing her gaze to narrow. If Beralin was drained to such an extent, then did that mean that she used so much energy against Tiamat and the flagship that she really did cause its destruction? Or was it Julius who caused that explosion?

“Do you know what happened on that flagship, Julius?” Amia asked quietly. “Was it you who destroyed it? Or Bera?”

Julius remained silent for a while. “Bera was responsible for its demise,” he finally said. “But it was Tiamat who destroyed it.”

Amia let those words sink in. True, an Assassin did not have that firepower. Only someone as destructive as Tiamat could. What trick did Beralin use to get Tiamat to destroy his own ship?

She glanced at Julius quickly. His eyes were on Beralin.

Something did not seem quite right though. The condition that Beralin currently had had only ever been recorded in those that used Aether directly, such as the Sorcerers, Spirit Masters and Clerics, as they used the Aether in such a way to create energy to have some ethereal effect. An Assassin rarely used that as it is was not in their skills as much.

So what on earth did Beralin do exactly?

Her chest felt tight. Amia had the feeling that there was more to the story than what met the eye. And Julius . . .

She looked at him again.

_Even though we are his friends and subordinates, even if he did know . . . he will not tell us_, her heart whispered.

She looked down at Beralin. She would have to wait until her friend woke up to ask her.

But . . . would Beralin remember?

Amia had not failed to notice her friend’s lack of memory every time after such massive events. What was really going on between Julius and Beralin?

It was a question that occasionally played on Amia’s mind – with no answers to it.

* * * * *

It was another few hours before Amia had managed to stabilise Beralin’s body and weak aura. When that stage was reached, Julius gave the next set of instructions.

Amia was teleported back to Oriel, to his manor with Beralin, where Amia then continued the healing in a more comfortable environment and where it was much safer.

Julius took overall command after that of Teminon’s repairs and the reinforcements of all five defensive rings. He sent Legions and squadrons all over Elysea to check the states of affairs in the different cities and towns to the smallest of villages, ensuring that no Abyssal Gates had opened that may have let Balaur and/or Asmodians into their lands.

Amia stayed with Beralin over the days, and over those same days, the Daevas continued restoration and scouting. Nothing was left out under Julius’s watchful gaze.

And every now and then, Amia felt that little bubble of happiness and respect for Julius and Beralin when he came to check on her during the rare few breaks he had.

He cared a lot, so much so that Amia liked to tease Beralin about it. Still though, it made Amia feel slightly envious. Such relationships and care were rare. And that was what made it so adorably beautiful for Amia.

She felt lucky, lucky that she was in a Legion where her superiors were both incredibly powerful, and also caring, with the teamwork that had allowed them all to survive the battle that could well have been turned into a massacre if one thing went wrong.


	10. Remembering

Remembering

Amia slowly walked back from the kitchen of the manor where she carried a glass of water, sipping on it quietly. The corridors of the Atherton manor were dimly lit and quiet. The stars outside glittered in through the clear windows and frozen net curtains, absorbing the gentle light to glimmer like translucent sheets of silver.

The little Cleric paused outside one wall length window and gazed through the parted net curtains up at the night sky. The fragmented moons glowed, but even they were eclipsed by the great pink lights of Asmodae that lay at the northern end of the Tower of Eternity, on the other side of the Abyss.

Amia felt her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. It had been four days since she came back from the Abyss with Beralin. Although Amia felt back to full strength physically, her mental state was still exhausted. The thwarted invasion had taken its toll on her and everyone else that had fought in that battle.

It felt like it had been a dream – a nightmare. It seemed unreal that she had help command what had probably been the biggest battle of the Millennium since the Cataclysm. However, the memory of it was all still as clear as day. Her body felt too light without her armour, mace and shield. Her reactions were still as fast and as jumpy as ever, still in battle-mode despite the calm safeness of the Atherton manor. She could still hear the yells and cries of her comrades and the roars or the Balaur. Steel against steel clanged in her ears, the echoes of jarring pain jolted up her arms with every hit and block.

It was over now though. They had won, and now the Legions in the Abyss began the long restoring of the defensive rings around Teminon Landing. It would be a long process, directed by Sudryl’s Sword Legion. But Julius and the other Brigade Generals did not waste time. Already they had begun work, and already they sent patrols out over Elysea, from the great capital of Sanctum, to the most remote of places like Poeta, checking on civilians and hunting for Balaur or Asmodians that may have snuck in through broken Abyss Gates.

They did not dismiss the possibility that the invasion – as huge as it was – could have been a mere distraction for something even bigger.

It was impossible to comprehend and achieve, but Julius did not take chances. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Amia sighed, wondering how Michael was. Just thinking of him brought a faint smile to her lips. She could not deny the relief in her heart at seeing him fine when she was called back to the Landing. All bickering and immatureness had been put aside.

When they wanted to, they could be together in perfect harmony. Yet they usually were not. It made Amia snort softly. Perhaps it was a defensive mechanism for them both, for each was too shy or embarrassed to admit their true feelings. Maybe they were too afraid to take it so seriously yet.

Yet when Amia thought about it like that, she felt her shoulders drop glumly. Even though they had won this invasion, it felt like the start of something huge. What if . . . what if Amia and Michael did not have much time left? What if one of them was Displaced and died before they could take their relationship somewhere seriously?

She felt a pang in her heart, and Amia dragged her gaze away from the sky and closed her eyes briefly.

_I won’t be the one who admits first,_ she thought with determination. _I’ve suffered enough under his teasing. _He_ has to admit to _me_._

She would not give out first. Her stubbornness and pride would make sure of that.

Amia carried on quietly to Beralin’s quarters. The door to the bedroom was ajar just as she left it, with the soft glow of light emanating out. Just before she walked in though, she realised someone else was in there besides Beralin. However, she felt no concern.

She recognised his back and golden hair straight away from the gap in the door.

Julius sat in the chair beside the bed that Amia had used for healing and checking on Beralin’s vitals. He was still dressed in armoured-robes, but with the outer layers cast off to save weight. His posture was tired as he held Beralin’s hand in his.

Amia watched in silence, smiling softly. She truly adored the relationship and affection between Julius and Beralin. They were a perfect couple in Amia’s eyes.

“_Only Purebloods can pull off that sort of relationship and make it look good,” _Surion had mused once, earning a thwack from Amia, followed by his exclamation of, _“What was that for? I was saying a compliment!”_

Amia ignored the fact that Julius and Beralin were half siblings. So what if they were related by blood? Love did not make such distinctions. It was pure and beautiful in whatever form it materialised in.

But, although the harmony between Julius and Beralin was legendary, no one, not even Amia, had seen anything more than that. There were sometimes whispered rumours to add some interest to gossip in Sanctum, but there had never been any evidence. If Amia had not seen anything, then no one else had. That was certain.

Julius’s expression puzzled her sometimes though, like now. Sadness and something else haunted his eyes. It was in these incredibly rare moments where Amia glimpsed a man who was far older than a hundred years.

It tickled something at the back of her mind, creating and odd pit in her stomach. There was a mask, and something hid behind it.

“How long do you intend to stand behind the door, Amia?” Julius asked, though it was not really a question.

It made her jump slightly, and she giggled awkwardly, opening the door further to allow herself to slip in. “I didn’t want to interrupt you. You don’t get to spend any more time with her than we do. Our duties to Elysea always call first.”

Julius’s gaze flickered to the window. “To Elysea . . .” he trailed off. He closed his eyes, resting his head down. “Your loyalty is so absolute to the land,” he whispered, his voice barely audible that Amia had to strain to hear him.

She did not understand what he meant, something which was not that rare. He spoke in riddles all too often. She was still thinking when he spoke again.

“Has she woken up yet, while I was away?”

Amia moved to sit in one of the armchairs of the room, and plonked herself down with a sigh. “No. But her internal vitals are all stable. Sleep is now all she needs to restore the rest of the energy, which is returning slowly, but steadily.”

Julius raised his head with a deep breath. “That is a relief then. I know I can always count on you.”

Amia felt a bubble of warmth grow within her at the compliment from her Brigade General. “How is the restoration going?”

Julius stroked Beralin’s hand absentmindedly, but his eyes gazed far beyond the room they were in. “It will be a long while before the Landing and our Abyssal bases are back to normal. Stability alone will take around two months.” He then exhaled softly and stood. “Speaking of which, I must return.”

Amia also rose.

“Send a message to me if there is any change in Bera’s health,” he said gently.

Amia nodded. “Of course. Now go! The Daevas need you to lead them!”

With that prompt, Julius smiled a little at last from her tone, lifting whatever weight Amia still had on her shoulders.

His hands flashed out, glyphs and runes glimmered in the air and within the array that formulated and spun on the floor beneath his feet. Light streamed up from the geometric lines which filled the room with a surge in Aether. And then his body began to fade, before disappearing all together.

The Aether dissipated in the air, and Amia sat back down. She hoped her Legion and friends were alright in the Abyss. She hoped that Beralin would wake up soon.

* * * * *

_It was a dream. I was dreaming. Yet it was a dream quite unlike any other. I watched through the eyes of a baby in her cot, staring mindlessly at the ceiling. It was dark and quiet with night._

_The baby was bored. I was bored._

_I realised something – I was the baby. _

_The cot’s handles and bars had been gnawed by my gums and a few emerging teeth in boredom and interest. The room’s wardrobes, dressers and toys were all mine. The smell was familiar._

_Glowing green dust floated across the room in the still air, sometimes shimmering away, sometimes returning, sometimes combined together to make patterns . . . lines . . . and then other times they dissipated apart._

_I watched with interest as they gathered next to the cot into a humanoid shape. And then the glow faded to leave behind a figure standing next to it. His clothes were pretty. His hair was like dim fire. His green eyes were like the boy’s eyes that always came to play with me._

_I did not cry at the presence of this new face I had never seen, for his eyes were the same as that boy’s. He was familiar. He felt safe. I liked his smile as this tall man reached into the cot. It was kind and gentle. _

_My tiny hand reached up in turn in curiosity, grabbing his finger._

_He pulled his hand away and cupped it against my head. His hand was big and protective. His smile made me smile, filling my tiny chest with a strange warmth._

_But, there was something else in his expression, a sadness that made my chest hurt. _

_He stroked my head and growing hair. His lips moved, his voice was as soft as the glowing green dust. It was nice._

_His words made no sense back then, for my mind had yet to begin making any proper connections in language. However, this was a dream, another memory remembered, and now with a mind of many decades in age, channelled through this dream, I could finally understand what he said._

“_I wish I could look after you,” he whispered gently. “Forgive me for not fulfilling that role. But I will protect you from afar, until the time is right.”_

I could not hold onto the dream as my awareness rose from the deep seas of unconsciousness. As I rose, I knew that the dream had been a memory, one so deeply buried in my subconscious that it should not normally be remembered, for an infant’s memory did not start to remember until a few years later.

However, this memory was different, which may have been why it was remembered to begin with. It was a memory of _him_. It was the same man that came to me against Tiamat.

Upon recalling that name, everything came rushing back; the invasion of Balaur, my mission, my fight against Tiamat, seeing that man who triggered my manipulation of Aether, and falling into the Abyss on the sinking flagship.

My eyes opened heavily.

I was expecting to see the darkness of the Abyss and the fragments of lost Fortresses and Abyssal fungi floating in the distance. Instead, I stared at a ceiling.

There was no silent roar of the Abyss in my ears. Instead, it was a gentle quiet, the only sound being the faint crackle of fire in the fireplace that was on the other side of the room, shedding a warming glow throughout the room, coupled by a lamp nearby that was set to glow dimly.

The smell was familiar, the scent of books and herbs, underlying with faint perfume.

It was my room.

At first, I was confused. Before I lost consciousness, I was convinced that I would fall into the Abyss and become lost. But as I lay there, I sent my mind through my body.

I felt it all; the heart thumping in my chest, the blood pulsing through my veins, my chest rising and falling with my breath, the weight of the duvet on top of me as I lay.

This really was my room. I had been saved. I had actually been saved and survived an impossible battle.

Overwhelming relief flooded me, and I struggled myself up into a sitting position, wanting to really see my room.

The fire of the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the rug that was draped over the polished, wooden floor. The warm cream colours of the walls caught the warmth of the firelight behind the portraits. The curtains were drawn. My many shelves of books covered the entire length of one wall. Two armchairs sat before the fire.

Movement beside me caught my sleepy attention and I turned to look at who sat in the chair beside.

“Amia?” I croaked in amazement.

Amia woke quickly with a soft groan. The armour of war was discarded away, and she wore a nice dress instead. A book rested in her lap. Rings were under her eyes.

But that did not in any way hinder the incredible joy and further relief at seeing her.

As soon as she saw me, the sleep was chased away from her eyes, reignited with her usual fire of energy and she bolted up with a gasp.

“Bera!” She squealed, flinging her arms around my neck as she leapt across the gap that separated us. “You’re awake at last! We were so worried!”

I barely stayed upright under her weight, which was not much, but after having just woken up, my strength was elsewhere.

“I was so scared for you,” Amia almost began to wail, ignoring my grunt of protest from the tightness of her arms. “When we realised it was Tiamat who led the southern armada, we had no idea of what would happen to you.”

As Amia’s emotions exploded, I was struggling to breathe and get to grips with the sudden reunion. “Amia, Amia, wait. You’re arms are too tight. One thing at a time, I can’t breathe,” I wheezed.

Amia gasped again, letting go and leant back on the bed. “Ah! I’m sorry! I’m just so glad that you’re awake. You’ve been unconscious for seven days.”

I sat back up with a massive breath, resting back against the bed board and I winced. “A week?” I repeated in dismay. “I’ve been out for a week? What happened?”

Amia brought her legs up on the bed, hugging her knees and visibly calmed herself.

“After the Balaur flags were raised and we found out it was Tiamat who led the invasion, Michael called for reinforcements from Lady Ariel, and called for Julius.”

My face paled slightly. “Julius?” I whispered.

I subdued him with a poisoned kiss before I left for the Abyss. How soon did he wake up afterwards? Did he remember what I did to him? Our argument?

_No,_ I told myself firmly, silencing the storm that was developing within my mind and heart. Whenever he woke up was certainly after I had found the flagship, otherwise he may have stopped me sooner. As for whether he could remember . . . he should not. That poison had amnesia affects. It made me feel relieved that he would not recall our argument, or at least, not completely. However, to my disbelief, I found my heart disappointed that he would not remember my kiss. My heart wanted him to acknowledge me within his own heart in the same way. I could not control that desire, no matter how much I tried to subdue it.

Amia nodded. “Yes, he came with three other Legions, but not to take over command from Michael. The reinforcements were a huge help and Surion and Michael managed to maintain the remaining rings of defence. They were amazing. But even though they were so coordinated, we would have lost if the reinforcements didn’t arrive,” she said with a shiver, a hint of darkness in her tone.

My skin also felt cold. I had passed that armada silently on my mission to find the flagship. The size was unimaginable. The tension and killing purpose that saturated the air was terrifying.

Yet my faith in Michael and Surion had not wavered. I had no idea what it looked like at Teminon Landing and at the defensive rings during the battle, and I had no doubt that it looked awe inspiring, but in comparison to the armada, nothing I had experienced today could beat the terrible intimidation and hopelessness I felt upon gazing at the masses upon masses of Dredgion Battleships.

“The battle was won when you blew up the flagship,” Amia continued. “The Balaur retreated and then . . . and then Julius brought you back.”

I tensed, glancing across at her. She was shaking her head. “Now that I think about it, it’s no wonder that Julius brought you back in the state that you were. You were on that same flagship _and _fought Tiamat himself. It’s Aion’s divine will that you weren’t captured or Displaced!”

Staring at my lap, my brain sucked up Amia’s words like a dry sponge.

Julius came. He still came for me. But when?

“_I am sorry, Bera.”_

Those were the last words I thought I heard before I fell completely unconscious. As I now thought about it, I recalled a little more. I caught a blurred glimpse of a beautiful being, like an angel. He had Julius’s hair and eyes. It was Julius who whispered those words.

I could not describe the feeling in my heart. It was so sweet, yet absolutely agonising.

My head fell into my hands. I did not know what to do. I had to control this.

Yet I did not understand. Why was he sorry? What had he ever done to me to make him feel guilty to apologise? Normally it was me with the guilty conscious, apologising!

Had it something to do with hidden knowledge about us that he was purposely keeping hidden? Did it have something to do with our one-time death? Did it have something to do with that man with the same green eyes as us and red hair? Was it related to the tapestry and manipulation of Aether which I was somehow able to do?

Upon realising that, I looked up.

I could remember . . . I could still remember the battle against Tiamat clearly. I remembered how I attained victory at the Divine Fortress and how Cedric died. I remembered my dreams – more memories of a past that I did not know I had.

“Are you alright, Bera?” Amia asked worriedly, leaning forward and placing a palm against my forehead. “You barely had an aura when Julius brought you back. Healing you was a difficult task even for me. The spells were half as effective because your body had no Aetheric pull.”

I smiled weakly and took her hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m just a bit tired. I cannot thank you enough for healing me. Your skills truly are remarkable; never let anyone else assume otherwise.”

Amia smiled back, her eyes moist and she patted my hand. “Lie back down and have some more rest. You’ll need this sleep now just to re-adjust your internal clocks.”

I did so, sliding back down and let my head fall back onto the pillow, closing my eyes. Amia slid off the bed.

“I’ll cast some more healing on you when you’re asleep so when you wake up you’ll be back to a more acceptable strength,” she said, shuffling around somewhere. “But, just out of curiosity, how did you destroy the flagship?” She asked meekly.

Behind my eyelids, the battle replied in my mind. There was the man with an aura of an Ascended Empyrean Lord, yet not one of the original twelve. He triggered that inner power that slept somewhere within my subconscious, and with that power, I used it to defend against Tiamat.

“I made her use her power against her,” I breathed. “She destroyed the ship with her own firepower.”

There was a soft hum. “An Assassin trick?”

I smirked faintly. “You could say that.”

There was the soft poofing sound of the chair’s cushion deflating slightly as Amia sat on it. “You people are clever and tricky . . . wait.”

Her tone forced me to crack an eye open. Amia’s eyes were wide. “You said ‘she’?”

With that, I knew I could close my eyes again so I did. “Yes,” I said sleepily. “Tiamat is female.”

In the silence that followed, I did not have to have eyes opened to see that Amia’s jaw had dropped.

“But –!”

“Later, Amia,” I interrupted with tiredness. “I’m exhausted.”

Amia sighed. “Very well,” she said sheepishly. “Rest. You’ll have much more strength and energy when you wake.”

The tension flowed from my body, muscles unclenching and my mind calmed. Amia’s presence – while a handful sometimes – was a safe one.

“Thank you, Amia,” I murmured as my conscious slipped back underneath the dark waters of sleep.

* * * * *

Teminon Landing and the defensive rings were still masses of action a week after the Balaur invasion retreated. The exhaustion was showing on everyone, as they had yet to have any proper rest. Even though Michael chased away his heavy fatigue with spells, he was beginning to feel it do more harm than good. Spells – no matter how pure or their intention in this case – could not defeat the ultimate natural healing of all.

Sleep and rest.

Michael continued directing and organising. With Julius taking the ultimate lead in the re-stabilising and restoration, it already lifted a huge weight and stress from his shoulders.

It made Michael feel guilty sometimes, with just how much he actually relied on Julius. Everyone did.

Did it ever make Julius feel stressed? Because if it did, then he did not show it. But Michael did wonder. How much was he not showing?

Even during this past week with Beralin unconscious and in Amia’s care, Julius carried out his duty with excellence. However, as his friend, Michael did see the slight distracted and distant gaze in Julius’s eyes.

But, Amia was with her. And that made Michael feel further relief. If Amia was with her, then Beralin would be fine. She would heal. They were close friends as well. The six of them had the utmost trust and faith in each other.

“Michael.”

The Chanter turned around at the call. He arched an eyebrow as the Gladiator strode towards him. Cloak and all. It was quite a sight.

“Surion. What are you doing back here?” Michael asked, coming up to meet his friend. “What about the outer rings?”

Despite the rings under Surion’s eyes, the Gladiator grinned. “They’re fine at the moment; they can risk my absence for a few hours. Besides, I just came back to give my report to Julius.”

They both glanced away to the centre of the Landing. Julius stood, looking as calm as ever. He gave out orders and commands with clear instructions. Everything was beginning to move with organisation now that he took control.

A messenger approached their leader and handed him a letter. The paper was slightly pink when he opened it.

“Amia,” both Michael and Surion intoned together, recognising that paper immediately. Only she would be childish enough to still use pink paper and parchment. The two men chuckled slightly.

“Ah, you two.”

They turned to their opposite side, seeing Seregon seemingly glide towards them, as ethereal as a ghost, a rather frightening one with his armoured robes. He looked a little more tired than usual, but aside from that, his face looked as uninterested with everyone as normal.

Surion snorted. “Don’t tell me you fought without changing your expression at all.”

Seregon raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps.”

“Let me guess, you were still bored?” Michael pressed in amused dismay.

Seregon smirked darkly. “No. For once, this battle was thrilling.”

“Hurray!” Surion exclaimed. “At last we find something that interests our freezing Spirit Master.”

Seregon made no response and his smirk faded back to his impassiveness. “Are you also here to hand in your updates?”

Michael nodded and turned to begin heading towards Julius. The other two joined him.

“Yes. I figured I’d give him a moment to get back into the swing of directing after he returned from Orien,” Michael said.

Seregon frowned, as did Surion who then asked in a softer tone. “Any news about Bera?”

Michael shook his head. “Not that I know of. Julius doesn’t show anything.”

Surion sighed. “I swear, that man is harder to read than you, Seregon.”

As they approached the courtyard, Michael watched his Brigade General. Julius was reading the note.

Then his shoulders sank with released tension, his eyes closed for a moment and a wave of relief washed across Julius’s face.

He then opened his eyes and folded the note, looking directly at the three as they arrived and Julius smiled.

“Well, Bera woke up a few hours ago. According to Amia’s message, everything is fine.”

Surion and Michael mirrored Julius’s smile, and Seregon sighed in that same relief. “That’s the first bit of good news since the Balaur retreat,” Michael mused.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Surion almost bellowed in delight, clapping Michael across the back. “To face a Dragon Lord and survive. And now she is virtually fully-healed, right?”

“Oof,” Michael puffed, and then scowled down at Surion. Surion seemed oblivious to his taller friend’s scowl.

“Physically, yes,” Julius agreed. “She will need rest.”

Michael nodded grimly, recalling Beralin’s state when Julius brought her back. Even with the visible wounds healed on the surface, the internal body would need rest to full recover after such a strange and exhaustive drain on her internal energy.

“I wonder if Fasimede really had no inkling as to the opponent Bera had been sent to assassinate,” Seregon murmured.

It caused Michael and Surion to glance at him from his dangerous, underlying tone.

“It is unlikely,” Julius muttered. “Despite his position of power, his orders are the Seraphim Lord’s orders. I will be meeting them over course of the next couple of weeks.”

Michael’s eyes widened slightly. Was that a hint of bitterness? Dislike? A hidden accusation, in his voice?

Julius caught his eyes. Looking at those deep emerald pools, Michael felt a shred of wariness. There was something in Julius’s gaze – to just let it go.

“Have you brought reports?” Julius continued, breaking eye contact for a moment, but the feeling did not go away.

“Aye,” Surion nodded. “The first and second rings are in a poor state and are near enough destroyed. I’ve established a temporary ring of Daevas in the meantime to act as a temporary replacement while we restore the basic foundations of the outer rings. This will take at least another week, but we are working swiftly. Once the foundations are set in place, then I can begin to work on stabilising the rings.”

Julius frowned slightly. “They will take the longest. Michael. Your report.”

Michael nodded to attention. “The third and fourth rings sustained heavy damage as well, particularly the third. The repairs are going according to plan, but it will also take a couple of weeks before we see some real improvement.”

Julius nodded in thanks, looking to Seregon lastly. “Seregon. Report.”

Seregon bowed, formal as always. “The fifth ring is stable, sustaining some minor damage. However, some key strategic pressure points were hit with carefully aimed Aether cannons. I believe the Landing may have been spied on for a long time for the Balaur to be able to know where to aim and hit. Aside from that, the ring is being well-maintained. Very few frontline Balaur were able to pass the fourth ring. The main damage is due to long ranged attacks.”

Julius frowned, as did Michael and Surion.

“Seregon. I’d like you to write up a full report on the pressure points that were hit, and continue with repairs on the fifth ring. The Ritual Serpent Legion will join you in analysing the damage, as well as to install countermeasures. Michael, move all of your teams to the third ring and focus purely on repairs for that one. I will send the Wearers of Destruction Legion to take care of the fourth. And Surion, I will have all of the Shield of Divinity come to reinforce you repairs on the first and second rings. The remaining Legions will remain posted where they are between the rings and nearby Fortresses.”

Surion bowed. “Thank you, Julius. Having Brigade General Sameth’s direct instruction will be invaluable.”

Julius nodded. “I’ll start establishing shifts now across the Landing to allow for everyone to have some form of rest. So in the meantime, work, but not too hard. I don’t care what some other Generals say. The health comes first. We cannot do anything otherwise.”

Michael grinned. He liked this part of his leader. Julius was someone of many masks and faces. Even when he was not on the battlefield and was back in the Library of Sages in Sanctum, appearing humble and kind, he would still not allow anyone to tell him what to do. It was amusing to watch new and young Daeva’s mistake Julius for just another ordinary librarian. Their new rank as a Daeva made many of them cocky. And oh how their pride was often shattered by Julius when they made the error of trying to order him.

“We will take our leave then. Please send our well wishes of a speedy recovery to Bera,” Seregon stated, and Julius grunted in approval. The three of them saluted, and returned to their posts with their orders.

* * * * *

I woke up the following evening and true enough, I did feel better than previously during the night. I went for an easy walk around the manor and the garden with Amia who – despite being a Healer and should allow for time to rest – bombarded me with questions and details on the battle, making me feel drained.

My answers were no different to what I said during the night. I could not tell her that I weaved the Aether and I sometimes saw it criss-crossed in the very air of existence itself. I was an Assassin, yet the power I used back on the ship was unlike anything I had ever experienced or witnessed, aside from the veteran Sorcerers and Spirit Masters. But even someone like Seregon did not use the Aether in such a way.

I did not understand what was happening within me, at all. More often than not Ami had to constantly call me, a result of my lack of listening due to my internal worrying and fretting. I could not think straight.

“Oh, I sent a message to Julius last night to tell him that you had woken up,” Amia added with a poke to grab my attention again.

I looked to her.

Amia scratched her chin thoughtfully, looking up at the evening sky. “Hmm, I forgot to tell you that Julius visited you about four times during the seven days you were out. He asked me to send word to him when you woke up.” She then smiled gently at me. “He is really caring,” she said softly. “He would not have left your side if he did not have to be in the Abyss.”

I looked away, biting on my lower lip. “You think so?”

“Of course,” she said brightly, twirling ahead of me with her arms swinging out from her sides. “I may seem like a happy daisy living in a bubble, but I do notice these things.” She winked at me, causing me to blink.

Did she . . . was she able to tell of my feelings for Julius? Did she maybe see if he also felt the same way?

_No, impossible,_ my mind objected quickly. I could not hope for such a thing. I did not deserve it.

But . . . if Amia knew of my feelings for him, then would she not feel awkward? We were brother and sister. Half, true, but still related nonetheless.

However, when I looked at her, I saw the gaze and expression of a woman who was in admiration and adoration, not one of awkwardness and dislike.

I embraced her out of warning, earning a startled muffle from her and I squeezed my eyes shut.

“There could be no better friend in the world besides you,” I whispered.

Amia hugged me back and giggled gently. “And I will always be your friend, Bera.”

* * * * *

_Dear Bera,_

_I am relieved to hear that you are well again. Your recovery has been the best news as of yet for me and our Legion. However, even though you are physically well, I know better than to expect a full recovery internally as well. Therefore in order to reinforce Amia’s instruction to you, please don’t strain yourself, and certainly no fighting or training for a while. I wish I can be by your side but alas, Elysea has called for my services. Therefore this letter is short as my free time is virtually non-existent. It is unlikely you will see me for a while._

_Amia will be liaising between the Abyss and Sanctum, but not taking any full part in the recovering of the defensive rings around Teminon Landing. This way she can still fulfil her duties, as well as to watch over you in my place. _

_You will also be called to Sanctum soon to give your report of the battle to Fasimedes and Lavirintos. Be careful with what you say. A one-on-one fight with the fifth Dragon Lord is not going to be taken lightly, particularly as even with the Dragon Lord on-board, you still successfully fulfilled your mission of destroying the flagship. An achievement as such is rare, even for an Empyrean Lord. Questions will be asked. Answers must be carefully worded._

_Sadly, I have no more time and must return to my duties; therefore I will close it here. Our friends, myself and Legion send you well-wishes for a speedy recovery._

_I shall see you again soon. In the meantime, do take care._

_Julius_

I folded the parchment, holding it between my fingertips with what looked like a delicate hold, but was in fact a firm grip. Resting my hands in my lap, I gazed up through the canopy of branches and leaves from the tree I leaned against. From between the leaves and branches, the pink lights of distant Asmodae shone.

Somewhere between where I sat, and those lights, were Julius and my friends, out in the Abyss, undertaking the second largest task of the current Age, aside from the recent invasion.

Julius’s letter mentioned nothing of the battle itself, or the rescue. There was not even a tone of bitterness from my disobedience to him in carrying out my mission set by Fasimede.

It made my chest feel tight and constricted. He had always been the mature one out of the two of us. I was silly, a fool, to continue to feel nervous and worried and awkward about the argument. But he would not remember the latter part of it. And for that, I should also return to behaving as normal. Driving a rift between us was the last thing I wanted to do, because in truth, my heart wanted the complete opposite.

I took a deep breath. Thinking about matters of the heart was going to have to wait for now.

Indeed Julius was right. Within the next couple of days I was expecting a summon to Sanctum to present my report of the battle. I had to get my story straight. It had to be accurate, retelling as much as possible.

However, the darkness of my mind whispered. I thought about Julius’s letter again.

_Be careful with what you say._

I frowned slightly. I know I had to be careful. I used a power that had never been documented or used before, and it was in fact an ability I had had since birth. What was it though?

Did . . . did Julius know? I knew he was hiding something. Was it something to do with this ability? Did he somehow already know what happened in the fight between Tiamat and I?

It was incredibly subtle, but the gentle hint was there, beneath the words and between the lines.

I rested my head back against the trunk of the tree with a soft thump, pressing a hand to my face as I closed my eyes with exhalation.

_What is going on? _I thought numbly. _What is this power? How can it be so powerful to hold my own against a Dragon Lord? _

Behind my closed eyelids, I saw that man again, followed by nostalgia and the dreams. _Who is he? What’s the connection?_

I lowered my hand and opened my eyes. Ripples of those green lines criss-crossed segments of the air, appearing then disappearing, rippling and floating. I could feel its flow in the air, through the ground, around the trees and over the rocks, swishing in the water of the ponds and pulsing with the life of the carp within.

I slowly blinked. It all faded from my senses.

My expression fell.

_I don’t understand._


	11. Behind the Emerald Eyes

Behind the Emerald Eyes  


I stood to attention, waiting patiently in the grand office as the Holy Templar Commander read my report.

While I waited, I stared out of the vast window to my side, remembering my reaction when I first looked out upon the city of Sanctum from this height. Being on the normal ground level of Sanctum was in itself, breath-taking, especially by the docks where one truly gained a sense of the incredible height from which Sanctum levitated above the land, enhanced by the winds that blasted up from the Sky Canal below.

Then, rising up to the top of Protectors Hall increased that dizzying height further. More than once I had wished that Daevas were allowed to fly over the city. The experience would be unlike anything ever felt. Sadly though, the Seraphim Lords only permitted gliding. But, that did not stop some of us – namely my friends and I – from taking full advantage of that small allowance.

Thinking of my friends brought my thoughts back to them and the Abyss where they all were, including Amia at the current time. She was incredibly busy, and I worried that she may collapse from exhaustion at some point. However, despite her small and petite frame, she was exceptionally strong, with great stamina.

It made me feel guilty that she had to look after me, in addition to fulfilling her duties in the Abyss. I had suggested earlier that she should stop coming to see me so often, though it pained me to suggest it as I did enjoy her bubbly company, for it distracted my confused mind from darker thoughts.

Nevertheless, her orders were from Julius, and even though both Julius and I were both Daevic Purebloods, he was the Brigade General, I was the Centurion. Any order or request by me could easily be overruled by him.

Everyone obeyed him without question though, even if his commands seemed absurd, because in the end, there was harsh truth and wisdom to his reasoning, often saving our lives. Many would hate him for a time, until they were able to swallow their pride and reflect on his commands and their actions, realising that he was in fact, right.

There were very few who had the courage to disobey his orders. One, was me. The other was Surion. Others would include new recruits or other Generals, thinking that they knew best.

Often, they learnt the hard way. Again, Surion and I fell into that category, but we managed to achieve what we set out to do, though usually at a terrible risk and cost to our safety, earning some sort of punishment and warning from Julius.

_Such as my last mission,_ I thought with an internal sigh.

Now that it was over, I understood why Julius had been so against it. I knew it had been a suicide mission from the start, and that did not bother me. However, Julius said that the two of us alone were different to every other Daeva of Atreia. We were more powerful than any of them, but if we died, then we died for good.

I still found it almost impossible to believe. I could understand _him_ being viewed as one of these superior Daevas. Sometimes, I even thought he could be on par with the Empyrean Lords themselves. However, me?

It seemed ridiculuous. I had never considered myself as that powerful. I was a Pureblood, yes, but I never even thought to contemplate that I was a Daeva as feared and respected in power as Julius.

_That may change, after this invasion and things have calmed down,_ I thought grimly. I had faced a Dragon Lord and survived. I had successfully destroyed the flagship that I had been sent to eliminate. The news would spread through the delicate bureaucracy of Sanctum. I was no fool to the power and dangers of gossip and rumours amongst the elite.

But, if Julius was right, and we only needed one death to disappear for eternity, then it was no surprise anymore as to why Julius was on the verge of overriding Fasimides order.

In truth, I should have died in that mission. Despite being a Pureblood Guardian of Elysea, that ranking was nothing in comparison to an Ascended Dragon or Empyrean Lord. And Julius knew that. He wanted to protect me . . . always.

My chest constricted at the pain in my heart.

Julius knew that I should have died back then.

_But I didn’t._

Because of the hidden ability within the depths of my Spirit and being, I survived and stood my ground, almost as an equal, against Tiamat herself.

I did not understand how and my brow creased with infernal fretting and worry.

How?

Lavirintos shifted, causing me to turn my attention back to him. He placed the report back down on his desk, smoothing the parchment out on the polished wood.

“A good report, if lacking in some details.”

“I only reported what was necessary, Commander Lavinitos,” I said back formally.

He grunted in acknowledgement, though I detected a slight hint of disappointment. Nonetheless, I was careful, heeding Julius’s warning. There was no mention at all of any use of unknown power.

“Your cleverness and cunning in battle never ceases to impress,” he mused. “Using your speed and agility to your advantage to trick the Dragon Lord Tiamat into destroying her ship.”

I made no change to my expression. What I wrote was true. In that battle at the end, I did indeed use her power against her to destroy the ship. Tiamat’s own fire split it in two.

“Tiamat is well-known for her impatience and terrible temper. I fear your tactics may not have been as successful against Ereshkigal.”

“We are lucky that he did not take to the battlefield for this invasion,” I murmured.

“Indeed,” Lavirintos grunted, looking to be bothered by something. He had a heavy burden. The threat of the Balaur was forever on everyone’s minds, but more so on people like him in particular.

“I suppose you also now know of Tiamat’s true sex,” he added, looking down at my report again.

I nodded, but frowned slightly. “Why do we, as well as the Balaur, refer to Tiamat as male?”

Lavirintos leaned back. “You already know the answer to that actually, Lady Atherton, having read documents on the Balaur in the Library of Sages.”

Automatically, my mind flitted back over the many books and scrolls I had read, rifling through the ones in my head on the Balaur and their history. I recalled it at the same time Lavirintos continued.

“Despite their high intelligence and incredible power, males were always regarded as more mighty and powerful than the females, even though there have been females even more fearsome than their ‘superior’ sex. Amaurea is one such Balaur.

“Tiamat, as you know, was the last Dragon Lord to Ascend, and also the only female Dragon Lord. Referring to her as male is for propaganda’s sake, making her more a part of the Dragon Lords.”

I scowled. “Well, the emblem of the two heads is very fitting for her then.”

Lavirintos filed my report away and met my eyes. “Thank you for your report, Lady Atherton. I will forward it on to Lord Fasimedes and Lord Nezekan.”

I was about to salute when I realised Lavirintos was not finished.

“A formal invitation will be going out across Elysea, particularly to the high figures such as yourself and Lord Atherton to attend a ball.”

I arched an eyebrow. “A ball? What for?”

I liked balls, where one could wear stunning dresses, robes and suits, where one could dance, mingle, drink and eat delicate foods crafted by the best chefs in Elysea. It was rare that I ever went to one though, having been away on missions most of the time. Hearing that a ball was in the making made a tiny spark of excitement flutter within my stomach. However, the timing seemed a bit strange and inappropriate, considering most people were in the Abyss and on patrols on heightened alert.

“It is a celebration event for our victory against the Balaur invasion, the biggest victory we have achieved in this current time of the Third Age.” He sounded proud.

I merely nodded my head. “It is a very fitting celebration for this turn of events,” I agreed. “However, what of the timing? Almost every Daeva of Elysea is in Reshanta working on the restoration of Teminon Landing. To stabilise it alone would take at least a month, let alone a full recovery which could take up to a year.”

“Lord Atherton has said the same thing,” Lavirintos said. “Therefore the ball will not be for at least another five months. Lord Atherton is well known for his organisation. I am sure he will restore the Landing quicker than he says.”

I swallowed a sigh of exasperation. After all this time, people still did not understand him. When Julius set a time, he meant it, for that was exactly how long it would take for him to achieve something. He could not do it faster, as that was as fast as he could go.

Instead, I simply nodded a bow. “I look forward to the invitation.”

Lavirintos returned the nod of respect. “Lady Atherton.”

“Commander Lavirintos.” I saluted, and then left his office, descending down the elevator from the Protectors Hall to the Artisans Hall.

Even though Sanctum was quieter than usual – a result of most Daevas being off in Reshanta – Artisans Hall was busier than ever, with craftsmen hectically crafting, cooking, tailoring supplies to be sent off to the Abyss for the troops and forts that required them.

It was busy, and even out on the Divine Road where it was quieter, the air seemingly buzzed with tension.

Yet, I did not feel its weight against me. It seemingly moved around me, leaving me alone in a solitary bubble, quiet, with just my thoughts for company.

With my report handed in, there was now nothing for me to do with any great importance. Julius was my General, not just my brother, therefore if he did not set me orders, I had none. And if he meant what was in the letter, then if any orders came to me from Sanctum, then he would have had those overruled, allowing me time and space to recover fully.

As I walked to the Tempest Shipyard, a place where I liked to sit up on the walls and watch the ships come and go, I felt my expression soften. Was he aware that by giving me time and space, I now had much more time to think of the events of the past concerning this strange weaving power, and that man with flaming red hair with the same eyes as us? Was he aware that he was giving me an opportunity to discover the secret he hid from me? To learn of my true bloodline, of who I am, of who he is?

_Of course, he knows, _I thought quietly. _He knows me, he knows I will think of this._

Did that mean . . . that he was letting me uncover the truth? That he would not keep me so protected that I was blind? Was he willing to sacrifice his desire to keep me safe in order to allow me to explore and be free?

Guilt plagued my heart as I leapt up onto the furthest perch and sat down, letting my legs dangle over the edge. The wind blew through my hair.

Reflecting back on my past, I knew I did not treat him entirely as well as he had treated me. I ignored many of his concerns and worries, marching off to do what was fun with my friends without thinking of the consequences.

However, I had made Julius wear such a terrible expression that night before I left for Reshanta. I never wanted to cause him to make that expression again.

I touched my necklace. It meant so much to me. Julius meant so much to me – he meant everything.

Yet as time wore on, I began to realise that I was in love with a man I did not really know. There was so much about Julius which I knew that I did not know of. It did not change my feelings.

But as I hoped that he and the Legion were safe and well in Reshanta, my thoughts returned back to my infant memory.

Even from where I sat now, gazing out at the sky from my perch, I continued to occasionally see the weaves of Aether throughout the air and space. My battle against Tiamat had not only made me begin to think of much deeper and darker things, but had also unlocked fragments of my memory, as well as my sight to this weave which was invisible to everyone else’s eyes.

But it was not directly Tiamat who was responsible. It was that man, that man whose aura was that of an Empyrean Lord, and perhaps even more. His face in my memory was no longer so blurred and skewed.

Julius and I were connected. I was connected to this other man, and so was Julius. All three of us were connected.

But what was the connection?

* * * * *

In the hall, deep within the undergrounds of Sanctum, the five Seraphim Lords sat on five thrones which ringed the circular hall. Vaizel lounged across his throne, earning a disapproving glance from Nezekan at Ariel’s right. Yustiel sighed delicately, whereas Kaisinel looked as uninterested as always. However, his presence alone kept Vaizel from releasing the full extent of his care-free laziness.

Even Ariel was wary of the Lord of Illusion. Sometimes, she partly wished that his position was switched with Lumiel when they split to protect the Tower bases.

That wish made Ariel feel disappointed within herself however. Kaisinel was a Seraphim Lord. It was a disgrace for her to wish for such a thing.

It was a tiny voice deep within her though that she could never completely snuff out. It was Kaisinel’s personality, as well as his power that caused such wariness amongst them. Even before the Cataclysm, it was the same.

Kaisinel, Lumiel, Julius and Sudryl. They were very alike. Their powers were seemingly identical at first, until the differences came to light. Julius and Sudryl were the ones who were different. To this day, Ariel still did not completely understand their true power.

“Please be honest with us, Julius,” Yustiel said delicately. “Who was it that was responsible for Tiamat’s defeat? You, or Beralin?”

Julius walked around the outer ring of the five thrones. It was not often that the five of them were able to see Julius in his true attire, identifying him as a Brigade General. That, combined with the aura which he kept hidden, made one realise that he was not a man to be trifled with. And in the presence of the Seraphim Lords, it was like the times of the past once again. He was neither superior, equal, or below the Lords. He was something else, something that simply demanded their respect, just as they demanded his respect.

“Beralin was the cause of Tiamat’s defeat,” Julius said, his voice was steady and calm, yet it was emotionless.

“How?” Vaizel questioned with amused curiosity. “We know she’s powerful and talented, but she must have done something to force Tiamat’s retreat.”

Ariel watched Julius carefully, seeking some break in his mask to read more of the truth behind Beralin.

“It is just as her report stated. She tricked the Dragon Lord into using the Dragon flame to destroy the lead ship,” Julius stated. There was no change in his mask.

“Do not dance around the question, Julius,” Nezekan’s deep voice pressed. “We all felt the surge of Aether that was manipulated just before the destruction of the Dredgion. It did not have a Dragon’s signature. If it was not you, then the only other person it could have been is Beralin. We all know she has abilities to manipulate Aether far beyond her limits as an Assassin.”

Julius’s green eyes flickered to Nezekan.

“What if it was Sudryl?”

They all fell silent and Julius paused where he was. Their eyes landed on Kaisinel. Ariel felt her muscles tense.

“Sudryl has not been seen since before the Cataclysm. The chances of it being him are impossible,” Ariel said, a little more hoarsely than she intended.

Vaizel sat up with a thoughtful frown. “That’s what we thought about Julius. And here he is.”

Nezekan’s eyes flashed to the Lord of Freedom, silencing him with his gaze.

“What would be achieved if it was Beralin who manipulated that Aether?” Yustiel wondered quietly. “We all know of her ability. It is nothing new to us.”

“Because, Beralin is the Key to the prophecy, hidden in the Secret Library at the Library of Sages,” Ariel said clearly. “Page six, Final Moment: One awakened shall find meaning in dreams. Truth shall shed its veils. Ten lights extinguished, true light shall appear. All shall forever be changed and Aether, our lifeblood, shall flow into its proper vessel,” she reiterated. It had been one that she had read so many times, desperately seeking hidden meanings and clues behind the words to save Atreia from oblivion. She looked up at Julius.

His eyes, as always, were unreadable. He was the supreme Sage of the Library. Of course he would have read that document many times. It was nothing new to him.

“The power within Beralin is the key to unlock this prophecy,” Ariel stated. “All we need to do now is to discover how it is linked. The battle against Tiamat holds the clues.”

They all looked to Julius. “I am not the one who fought the Dragon Lord nearly two weeks ago” he said, his voice turning cold. “Beralin’s report is final. I ask that you refrain from questioning her on further details until later when she is fully recovered.”

Vaizel tapped his chin in thought. “What if she lacks much of her memory from the battle?”

Within, Ariel shared Vaizel’s curiosity. It appeared that after each major event which caused trauma, chaos and destruction, Beralin would successfully achieve something – and lose her memory of it afterwards. Ariel had wondered if it was a lie to protect a secret. But, healers had tended to Beralin’s mind, and the knowledge of memory loss turned out to be true.

Julius was their only bridge to Beralin, but he was careful and cunning like his sister. He only told them what he chose to tell. If there was something hidden, then it hid within his shadow, and they were not foolish enough to charge forth and bring down the gates that he guarded . . . not yet.

“We shall find out later,” Yustiel suggested gently. “For now, Julius will continue the Landing’s restoration and we shall prepare for the ball. That may be a good time, where everyone is gathered.”

Ariel nodded in agreement. “Very well.”

“I will take my leave then,” Julius said with a bow. “The Seraphim Lords.”

They nodded in return, and Julius’s body rippled through the blue light of Teleportation.

The five Lords sat where they were, silent in thought.

* * * * *

It had been three weeks since the invasion. Elysea was in as much chaos as before, except it was organised under the Legions’ commands while the Landing and Forts were repaired. For me, I had spent the first week unconscious, and then the latter two weeks writing my report and deep in thought.

Occasionally, Amia still came to visit me and checked my health, returning with her own report of my progress to Julius. It felt somewhat bemusing, but necessary I supposed. I barely noticed Amia’s presence these days though.

I had become withdrawn and reserved, trapped within my own mind as the days passed by, too lost in my thoughts to notice the changes in day and night, of visitors that came and went. I barely paid any attention to the formal invitation to the ball that arrived at the manor for Julius and I. Though, I did pay enough attention to send Julius his invitation, not knowing when he may return home.

With a sigh, I continued to walk around Oriel, watching the sun gradually set and the sky darkened. I had walked around Oriel many times alone, but also many times with Julius. We walked through the gardens and the woods, climbed the trees in our youth, swam in the ponds and lakes, and sat amongst the flowers of the fields.

I wished Julius walked beside me now and my sigh was laced heavily with glumness.

_When did I become so weak and dependent on his company? _I wondered gloomily. On some missions in the past, I had gone months, sometimes even years, without seeing Julius. Yet now, I felt like I could barely make it through the month without seeing him once.

I pressed a hand to my face, hanging my head. How could I have become so selfish so suddenly? I knew that he was busy, carrying the weight of the safety of Elysea on his shoulders as he led the restoration. I understood that clearer than day.

So why could I not get rid of this terrible ache in my chest?

_Pull yourself together, Bera, _I chided myself, lowering my hand again. _You are an Assassin, and one of the best. Assassins are patient and quiet. We wait and watch._

Indeed, I waited and watched, I was quiet, and externally patient. But on the inside, my impatience rolled in frustration, kept hidden by the shadows that hid from the light, hidden by the wind that masked my footsteps.

Despite my desire to see Julius home again however, I felt my body tremble with strange nervousness, as well as possible fear. I still had no idea how I would face him. Could I talk to him about the truth of the battle against Tiamat? Could I ask him what this glowing weave was in the essence of existence itself? Would he question me? Would he forbid me from seeking answers, telling me it was for my own good and protection?

I stopped, feeling my shoulders sink. This could not keep going. Not all things that were hidden, could stay hidden forever. I was not the little girl I once was in the past. Now, I was a Daeva, a Daeva of silence and death. I served to fight and protect the land of Elysea, of the world of Atreia.

Whatever secrets Julius kept hidden, whatever links connected him, the other man and myself together, were not just something personal. It all ultimately connected to the world itself. I could feel it.

My gaze came up, looking upon the great Atherton Keep that was hidden away in the depths of Oriel. It was once lively around here with life.

Now though, it was abandoned and deserted. Instead of lights that shone from the windows, darkness lurked behind the crystal glass.

I gazed upon the towering Keep, feeling memories flit across my mind, the immediate ones of my childhood that I remembered. They were of fun times, where the servants spoilt me and Julius played with me. Here, my parents were smiling . . .

Except Lord Yohan Atherton had not been my father. It had never occurred to me until the days where Sophie began to lose her mind. He had always smiled and me with such warmth and kindness before. But it had all been a mask, right from the beginning.

“_I just want to see him, one more time!”_

The dream I had had in Julius’s office in the Library, the fragmented memory of that night came back. Sophie’s wavering, hysterical voice echoed in my ears.

Who did she mean back then? Who was she so infatuated with that even Yohan could not snap her out of her madness?

“_Julius. You are his son as well. Tell him to come back.”_

I continued to stare in silence at the Keep, watching the shadows lengthening as the sun sank over the horizon, allowing darkness to creep back over the land in the absence of light.

Julius and I, while we looked different – almost opposites in many cases – we were also very alike. Our eyes were our defining features, the proof that we shared the same parent, the same father. The man with the same eyes as us.

“_There! Those eyes, the same as theirs.”_

Tiamat knew.

_The descendent of Sudryl . . ._ my mind whispered. Was that man . . . Sudryl? Were Julius and I . . . related to him? By blood?

While the birds fell into the slumber with the onset of night, the crickets and cicadas continued to chirp. The darkness meant nothing to me, and I pushed open the rusted gate, walking up the road to the Keep that was once my home.

Overgrown hedges arched over the road, creating a gloomy tunnel that threatened to prick any intruders with their thorns.

The hedges were beyond the road, drawing up the borders around and throughout the gardens which too, were overgrown and wild with age and time. Trees had become larger, grass swayed like reeds, weeds took the places of the pedigree flowers, blooming their own unique foliage.

Many nobles despised weeds, appreciating the pedigree flowers by large for their stunning beauty and perfumed scents. But I had never been one for these pedigree plants. They were beautiful, true, but it never felt like true beauty. The blooms of weeds had forever been my interest. They were plain and natural, following the course of nature without influence and taint of humans. It was the natural appearance which made them more beautiful than any other types of flower, to my eyes.

It was also perhaps in the nature of an Assassin, as well as Healer, to take interest in and appreciate natural plants, for they were the plants that provided our poisons and cures. Pedigree flowers were only there to look pretty. They served no purpose to us aside from aesthetics.

As I walked past the gardens that were more like fields, the Keep loomed ever taller, until finally I arrived at the front courtyard. Moss had patched its way across the pavings. And the pavings – like the stone of the walls that had once seemingly glowed with brightness and cleanliness – was now stained with dirt and dust from time.

How different this place was since the last time I was here as I child.

I stared at the front doors, chained and bolted shut, locked, and I turned away, walking along the edge of the Keep. The paths were overgrown, like so much else, lying in wait to trip and trap. But my experienced eyes caught the patterns, my feet knew where to step.

My body led me through the gardens behind the Keep, towards one particular tree that now stood taller than what I recalled in my memory. Its branches had fanned further, reaching beyond the limits that past gardeners had once taught it.

I stopped under its vast shade and gently reached out, my fingertips touching the rope of the swing that still hung from one of its mighty branches.

Vines now wound their way down the two ropes and over the seat that I had once sat on, swinging to and fro with glee. It was a wide seat, enough for two adults. But it was not too adults who sat on this swing in the past. Both Julius and I swung on this swing, giggling with laughter. Sometimes, we experimented to see who could jump the farthest from the swing, powered by agility, flexibility, and Aether. Julius, being the eldest, often won.

I smiled sadly.

Times were happy back then. It was a pampered world that I lived in, here, where the War, Empyrean Lords, Daevas and Balaur were nothing more than a history lesson which I did not fully comprehend nor understand.

_How naïve I was. How young and innocent. How blind and oblivious. _

Times had changed. My childhood was gone, nothing more than a nostalgic memory which I wished I could return to, but knowing that I never could.

Tentatively and cautiously, I sat down on the swing carefully, fully aware that the rope could snap with the decades of inactivity that now rotted it.

The rope held my weight, and I sat on the swing. I compared the image of what I saw now, to what I saw as a child from this position.

It was a bittersweet comparison.

_Beralin swung back and forth on the swing in elation, enjoying the thrill of the wind through her long hair and dress as she swung up, high enough that she was almost horizontal, and reached out to try and touch a leaf on one of the low branches. _

_Julius could do it, and Beralin grunted as she reached, her face screwed up in effort. _

_Her arms were not as long as Julius’s, and she swung back, letting her breath sigh out in disappointment with the wind that whooshed past her as she swung the other way._

I’ll touch those leaves one day,_ she thought with determination, continuing to swing._

_As the motion took her back and forth, she daydreamed, as well as thought of happy things where both she and Julius flew together. They were not allowed here in Oriel, but Julius took her to secret places where they could fly together. If they could not fly, then they found exciting places to test their jumping. She liked to try all the things she had read in the picture books._

_As she fantasised of days in the future where she was grown up, she saw Julius in the distance, walking between the trees, bushes and hedges._

_Beralin felt a delighted smile spread across her lips upon seeing him, and she stopped swinging her legs, allowing the swing to gradually lose its momentum._

_Her smile faltered however, causing her body to freeze on the swing when she realised that Julius was not alone. A tall man walked beside him, wearing strange robes that Beralin had never seen before. His hair was long and red. It was confusing to look at. It was a strange haircut, as there were many different layers. It was like fire._

_Beralin jumped off the swing, running to Julius, fearing for him. Who was that man? Did Julius know him?_

“_None of the Empyrean Lords know yet that you survived the Cataclysm,” the red haired man said as Beralin approached them._

“_They don’t need to know yet,” Julius said. His voice was strange. It sounded . . . older. “Is it not the same for you? You vanished long before Israphel suggested peace with the Balaur. The Cataclysm destroyed all evidence of your existence. Only the Empyrean Lords still remember you.”_

_The red haired man smiled softly, and stopped Julius with a hand on his shoulder. “You have always been a good individual, patient and watchful, protective and benevolent. To even change your physical body to match the youth of Beralin and grow up together with her, shows that even after eight hundred years, your feelings for her have not wavered.”_

_Julius mirrored that smile only slightly, yet he looked sad. “I will be by her side, always.”_

_The red haired man’s smile faded. “You will do what I cannot.”_

“_Julius!” Beralin exclaimed in worry as she dashed to him._

_Julius looked to her and he smiled that open-hearted smile that Beralin adored so much. “Bera,” he breathed, holding his arms out to her and she flew into them, hugging him tightly._

“_J-Julius,” she said __stammered__. “Who is he?”_

_Julius stroked her hair. “He is someone very important to us, Bera. He is a good person. There is no need to be afraid.”_

_His voice was soft and reassuring, and tentatively, Beralin turned to look at the man. She still had her arms locked around Julius’s waist._

_The man no longer towered above her. Instead, he knelt down to her height, and suddenly he no longer seemed as frightening. He was beautiful. His hair was a pretty colour, his face looked kind, like Julius. His eyes were green, like his, like hers._

_Beralin’s eyes widened, and slowly, she let go of Julius, now overcome by a sense of curiosity._

_The man smiled at her. It was an expression filled with warmth and love. Beralin felt all thought and nervousness leave her mind as she stared at him in awe and familiarity._

_The man took her small hands in his. Even though his hands were so big, he held her hands so gently. He looked sad._

“_I am sad, that I can never spend time with you,” he whispered. “You are such a pretty girl. You are both so important to me. But I cannot stay with either of you. Will you look after Julius for me?”_

_Beralin blinked. “I will stay with Julius forever,” she found herself saying, her voice was strong._

_The man’s expression softened and he placed a hand against her head, like a protective shield. It made her feel safe. _

“_I am glad.”_

_Beralin frowned. He did not look as happy as she had seen others when they used the word ‘glad’. “Why do you look so sad?”_

_The man’s smile disappeared. “I am sad because I cannot protect you.” His hand moved over her face and over her eyes, covering them. “I am sad, that you cannot remember who I am,” he murmured._

I stood in that same spot where that man had covered my eyes, and had erased the memory.

Silently, I moved onto the Keep, pushing through the rusted secret doors which had been left undiscovered, and I entered the Keep.

My memories had been tampered with on purpose, I began to realise. Because they all somehow linked back to him, the man which had been forgotten with time.

Somewhere in the depths of my mind and heart, something was struggling to break free. My heart recognised him, yet my mind had forgotten him, just as he had said.

Why was I not meant to remember? Why had my memories been sealed? And why, were they now coming back?

As I walked through the empty halls and corridors, it was as if I could see the ghosts of all those that were once in the Keep. Whispers of their voices echoed in my ears.

I stopped outside my old room which had been mine while I was a baby. It had been converted into a storeroom when I moved into a larger room later. Dust now blanketed the surfaces. But I could still see the room that it once was behind the mess. It was here where I first saw that man.

With heavy shoulders and a forever confused mind, I continued down the corridor, turning through passages and stepping along stairs, until finally I found myself outside the fourth level lounge.

How different it was. Many of the walls were gone, as if blasted away by energy. Whatever furniture had been left in the room was nothing more than fragments of their original structures, destroyed and blackened with charcoal.

Everything was strange about this room though. The remaining walls, ceiling, floor and shattered furniture were twisted, as if something had altered the very composition of their microscopic structure. Things that could not bend, were now bent. Things that were flexible and round, were now crystalline.

It was a room that was still heavy with Aether, the Aether that I somehow bent on that night where Sophie lost her sanity.

I stood there, waiting to see if anything came to me after what I recalled from the dream and I lost myself in Julius’s glowing green eyes.

But, nothing came.

I was not sure whether to feel disappointed, or relieved. Perhaps it was too soon yet for this particular memory to be unlocked once again.

I could still recall though how the weave of light altered, turning circular and pulling apart, like creating a rift in the air, in space. The glow that came from it . . . it was like –

“No,” I whispered, shutting my eyes and banishing the thought that followed, for if it was true, then what I had done was in fact unforgivable.

My hands clenched. Even if I tried with all my might, I could not ignore the possibility of what it was that I had created back then. The darkness of my mind whispered it, a tiny nag that I could ignore, but never completely.

My fist relaxed, but my jaw clenched and I opened my eyes. They were moist.

I could put off acknowledging it for now, but I could no longer ignore the reality that something far beyond the restraints of the mortal world was at work, and ticking. And somehow, I was connected to it. Julius was also connected to it.

The memories were – if very slowly – beginning to come back. They, along with this hidden and ancient power that slept within me, could not be ignored anymore.

The fear plagued my heart, for I knew that once I set down this path of destiny, there was no going back, and whatever lay down it would bring something that my subconscious shied away from.

However, I could not run, not anymore.

Julius could not keep me in the dark forever. It was time to take my destiny into my own hands.

It was time to uncover the secrets that surrounded the emerald eyes.


	12. Together Again

Together Again  


“What was I thinking?” Michael exclaimed in dismay, clamping his hands to his head with a groan.

“You agreed to come, Michael, so no more whining,” Amia said simply, not even turning to look at him as she browsed through rolls and rolls of silks, satins and the finest cloths of Elysea.

“But this is _shopping_! With you!” He almost cried. “I agreed to come with Bera, not Amia!”

My mouth rounded into a stunned and hilarious ‘O’ at Michael’s comment. Amia spun around to face him, her jaw dropped.

“Run away while you still can,” I whispered to him. “She’s not going to forgive you for that.”

“Where to?” Michael hissed back from the corner of his lips. “She can track me down anywhere!”

We both stood side by side, watching with widening eyes and awkward expressions as Amia stomped up to us. I took a tiny step away from Michael, hoping to avoid the outburst that was sure to spew from Amia’s mouth. Despite her tiny body, she had the temper of a huge monster.

However, Michael caught my sleeve, halting my sneak away and I glanced down in disbelief at his hand.

Amia stopped in front of us, her eyes flickering between the two of us, and then focused purely on Michael. Her glare was terrible and Michael squirmed where he stood.

The little Cleric opened her mouth, and Michael braced himself. I saw how his body tensed as he prepared for the onslaught of criticism.

Then, something happened that we did not expect.

Amia harrumphed. “I’m not going to be the immature one here. We both need to have gowns and suits tailored to our likings that match. We’re going together after all. And no buts!” She jabbed a finger, silencing him before he could say anything. “You were the one who asked for my hand to this ball. So don’t be a coward by backing out.”

Michael folded his arms and turned his head away. “I’m not backing out,” he grumbled. “Though I would have asked Bera if she wasn’t already going with Julius.”

“Hmph!” Amia merely sniffed, turned hotly on her heels back to the Divine tailors.

I glanced up at Michael. His breath whooshed out in a relieved sigh, his shoulders slouching. “Liar.” I smirked. “You never intended to ask me.”

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “I know I would certainly never dream of it while Julius is around.”

I raised an eyebrow. Was that also how everyone else viewed Julius and I? As one entity, always together, always united as one, never one without the other?

I looked back to Amia, then returned to Michael and I shook my head with a chuckle. “Why do you insist on teasing her so much?”

“It is fun,” he mused. “But also it’s because I know she is strong enough to take it, and I respect her for that. We know each other so well now that this kind of banter actually draws us closer.”

I smiled so myself and clapped him on the back. “You will both make a . . . interesting couple.”

Michael’s face turned red, staring at me, then he had to look away, unable to make eye-contact.

“What’s wrong with you now?” I chided, yet my voice was mocking with amusement. “Don’t tell me you have never heard anyone refer to you both as a ‘couple’?”

“I am not answering that,” Michael huffed, walking away from me away to a manikin, pretending to be intrigued by the robed-suit it wore.

I just shook my head again at the stupidity of it all.

“Lady Atherton,” the head of the shop greeted me with a curtsey, as expected of one of the highest class tailor stores in Sanctum. “What do I owe the honour?”

“Good afternoon,” I greeted. “The honour is mine, to have the head herself come to serve me. Are you sure you have time?”

The lady’s shoulders sank slightly with a smiled sigh. “This morning was the worst time. Everyone is ordering their gowns, dresses, robes and suits now for the ball. You came at a good time. The afternoon is always calmer.”

My face softened in sympathy. “Well, I am afraid I’m going to have to bother you again.”

Her face brightened, her eyes glittering with something less pure. “Not a bother, a pleasure to serve the Athertons.”

I snorted to myself internally. _Always jumping at the opportunity to serve the Purebloods for their own gain and reputation._

I continued. “I’m here to provide some designs for Lord Atherton and myself for the ball.” I pulled out small sketchbook.

“How thrilling!” The head tailor exclaimed. “Let us go around the back where we can discuss this in more depth.”

She led me behind the counter and I glanced back at Amia and Michael. Amia did not notice me, too engrossed in bossing everyone else around, and Michael looked bored. He waved at me before I disappeared behind the staff door.

* * * * *

Surion flew across the outer island of Teminon Landing, his white wings beating strongly against the currents of the Abyss. The currents were always rougher outside the Aetheric Field. But for Surion, it was not a problem. He took pride in his incredible strength. More often than not, he enjoyed making it very clear, especially to Seregon. He could break that Spirit Maser’s arms like snapping a pencil with his fingers.

Yet even after all this time, Surion had not been able to touch that sly and emotionless bastard.

Surion scowled, his brow furrowing. His friend was also his enemy. It made him sigh in exasperation.

He passed through the Field, crossing into Teminon Landing’s air space and landed smoothly, letting his wings return to the Aether.

There were not as many Daevas in Reshanta as previously. After the rings had been stabilised two months ago, the shifts came into full effect. The initial tension and pressure to have some form of secure defence could now be relaxed, allowing many Daevas to return home to have a few days break, before changing shifts with the others.

And now that invitations had been sent out for the celebratory ball, those that were currently on leave were taking the opportunity to order their attire for the event.

Not everyone was going. Daevas had to remain behind to guard the Landing and its rings. Julius had asked for a minimum set of personnel to remain behind and keep the Landing and rings safe, carrying on with the work to repair them. More than what Surion had been expecting were staying to protect Teminon.

It surprised Surion a little that more than expected had declined the invitation to the ball. Then again, Surion could not complain. The more that were here to defend the Landing, the better, for it meant less worry and stress on his shoulders while he would be enjoying the party.

Of course he was attending. It was expected for the leading members of Sudryl’s Sword Legion to attend the ball which – rumour had it – even the Seraphim Lords themselves would be attending personally. Even if it was not expected for everyone in Sudryl’s Sword to make their appearance, Surion would do so anyway. He would not pass up such a fabulous opportunity and event to simply _be_ there and exert his presence.

He was a proud man.

Surion strode towards the halls, passing into their sheltered walls and ceilings, and entered into Julius’s temporary office which was constantly busy with Daevas coming and going.

Julius had just turned the final Daeva away, about to rest his head against a hand until Surion walked in.

“Ah, it’s just you,” Julius exhaled, looking mildly relieved it was not someone else.

Surion raised an eyebrow. “_Just_ me? You make it sound like I’m a nobody,” he sniffed.

Julius smirked. “I don’t need to feed your ego with praise.” The Brigade General straightened behind his desk, resting his forearms against its smooth surface. “What can I do for you?”

Surion handed him a rolled piece of parchment. “My shift is now over, therefore here is my latest report from General Sameth and myself.”

He watched Julius unfold it and his eyes scanned the document swiftly. Julius nodded. “That is more than enough. Thank you for this report. I am glad to see repairs are going according to schedule.” He re-rolled the parchment, filing it away. “Now I suggest you return to Elysea quickly before someone else stops you,” he chuckled.

“That would only be you,” Surion chuckled in return, folding his arms. “When Michael comes back before me, I’ll have him make you take your leave as well. You have not taken a single break.”

“I am fine.”

“Tell that to someone who doesn’t _know_ you, Julius,” Surion scoffed. “You need rest, not to mention that you need to have your formal suit tailored.”

Julius tilted his head to the side. “Bera is already taking care of that. You on the other hand have not even started.”

Surion angled his nose higher. “I’ll have that tended to this leave. But that is not the point. You need to take a break soon as well, Julius. You may seem indestructible to everyone else, but even you can burn yourself out. As your Deputies, Michael and I are your hands. We led the retaliation smashingly, so we can also keep things going long enough for you to have a rest.”

Julius watched him, but Surion did not back down from those piercing eyes. In the end, Julius snorted softly. “Indeed, you and Michael have my complete trust. Very well. When Michael returns, I will take a few days leave.”

Surion smiled. It was not a smile from a Deputy. It was the smile of a friend.

Surion saluted. “Lord Atherton.”

* * * * *

Three months later and the night of the ball had arrived. I sat in front of my dressing table, staring at myself in the mirror, trying to think of what to do with my hair. Everything else was done – dress and make-up – but I could not think of what to do with my hair and I cursed myself for not thinking of this sooner. However, I did not regret having no servants for this. They always overdid _everything_ by my standards.

My eyes scoured the table’s combs, brushes, pins and clips, trying to find something that would look appropriate for my hair. If it was long like it used to be in my childhood, then this would not be a problem. But with its shoulder length now, I was having trouble thinking of a flowing and elegant style to sweep it up into.

That was not the only thing on my mind. My hands trembled slightly, my heart pounded behind my ribs. My nerves were getting the better of me.

Tonight was a huge event. The whole of Sanctum itself was the dance floor for the occasion. Every high and important member of society was going to be there. The Seraphim Lords themselves were going to make an appearance – it was the main talk of the land of Elysea, for they were so rarely glimpsed.

I was both excited and terrified at the prospect of seeing them again. It had been a long time. But my main concern surrounding their appearance was what they were going to say to me if we did speak together. My survival and victory against Tiamat was well-known. But no one knew exactly how I managed it. The questions kept coming.

Yet over my months of solitude and thinking, I had come to realise that whatever secret was buried within me, the Seraphim Lords were also aware of it. However, judging from the prompts for answers from me, it came to my attention that they were still somewhat mystified by the truth, like me.

My belief, was that only Julius was fully aware.

_Julius . . ._

My entire body tensed and I forced myself to take a deep breath. It had been six months since I had last seen him. Tonight was the first time I would see and talk to him properly since the night before the invasion.

Nerves twisted my gut, yet thrill excited my heart. It almost made me feel sick.

_Get yourself together, Bera!_ I told myself harshly. _I should not feel so awkward and nervous. He is my brother and friend!_

I shut my eyes, concentrating on my breath and heartbeat. It thumped quickly, but steadily in my chest. With every beat that was saturated in nervousness, there was also strength – loyalty.

I disobeyed him, hurt him, realised I loved him. Despite all the confusion of my Spirit and soul, the strength of loyalty did not waver. He was my brother, my leader, my guardian and my best friend. Even if he hated me within for my disobedience, I would never stray from his side.

So there should not be any doubt or fear in my heart towards seeing him again for the first time in five months, because no matter what happened tonight, my feelings would not change.

As that certainty came to sink within my mind, warmth enveloped me and my breathing and heart calmed. My expression softened.

“That is a better face,” a soft voice murmured.

Surprise flitted through me, yet for some reason, I did not feel shocked, nor did I jump in alertness. My eyes sprang open.

The warmth that had enveloped me had not only just been an emotional warmth, but a physical warmth from his arms.

Julius was behind me.

Seeing, hearing and feeling him sent an unsuspected torrent of emotion through my heart upon gazing at his open hearted smile from the mirror’s reflection.

“Julius,” I half gasped, my voice thick with feeling. I stood, turned around and embraced him, squeezing my eyes shut to try and prevent the tears that threatened to fall.

It was almost sin, the amount of happiness that surged through my body at finally being within his presence once again.

His arms wrapped around my waist, strong, and pulled me against him. “My dearest Bera,” he whispered.

His voice sent shivers down my spine. It was laced with feeling, sadness and joy, and relief.

“I’m sorry I went against you,” I found myself saying before I could stop myself. My tone was barely audible, struggling to control the waver of tears within it. “I had to fulfil my duty to Elysea. I know you were just trying to protect me. You’re always looking out for me. And I’m so sorry I never thank you enough for it. I’m so sorry for worrying you.” My breath was staggered. “I know that what you do is for my own good, for protection. I truly understand that. Yet I cannot help but constantly hurt you by undermining you. I’m torn between my duty to Elysea, and my loyalty to you.”

Julius raised one hand behind my back to my head where he stroked my hair. It felt so comforting, so protective. “I know,” he murmured. “You are forgiven.”

My eyes widened, moist. “How?” My voice broke with a gasp. “How could you forgive me so easily? I would have died if you had not come to save me.”

His hands took my shoulders and he pushed me back so he could gaze down at me. “Because I know of the guilt that plagues your heart. You are truly sorry to the extent where you cannot put it into words,” he said softly.

I bit on my trembling lower lip, only managing a single nod. I did not want to make him wear that expression five months ago ever again. His pain was my pain.

Julius kissed my forehead, bringing me close once again. “You recognised it was me in the Abyss?” He muttered.

I laughed once, feeling so relieved and happy. He had forgiven me. After what had happened, he was still forgiving me. I could barely believe it. But now I realised just how much his favour meant to me. Quickly it now began to dawn on me that I did not think I could ever handle his wrath and hate. I never wanted to lose this protective hand, his sheltering body, his watchful eyes.

“It’s hard to not recognise your eyes,” I managed to reply in response to his question. Upon recalling the whole event within my memory, my many questions sprang back to mind, followed by all of the doubt and confusion.

However, it remained silent. There was a time and place for everything. Here and now was not one of those.

“My eyes . . .” he trailed off.

I pulled back to look at him. I caught his distant gaze, before it refocused and flashed down to me. He smiled, masking away whatever lurked within those emerald depths.

“Sit. I will fix your hair.”

I obeyed, sitting back down and carefully ran a few fingers under my eyes to wipe away escaped droplets of salty moisture.

He stood behind me and combed my black hair. Where his fingers brushed against the skin of my scalp and neck, it tingled. It was a feeling of both hot and cold, taking a great deal of my self-control to keep my posture still and upright, hiding the shivers his touch made me feel.

As I sat there, I gazed at him from the mirror. His expression was soft and gentle. I finally smiled gently.

“It is like when we were children,” I said softly. “You did my hair more often than mother.”

His open face did not change. “You have lovely hair, whether it is long or short. You were never that happy unless I did it.”

I smiled meekly into my lap. It was as if I had almost forgotten just how much I had missed this peace of serenity between the two of us together again, like all my worries and stresses just melted away, lifting burdens from my shoulders. I did not feel as tired, feeling almost . . .rejuvenated.

My eyes glanced back up at him through the mirror. “When did you get back? I thought we were going to meet at the Elyos Square.”

“This morning. I managed to finish my tasks ahead of schedule so I came back earlier.” Julius pulled my hair back into an elegant bun, pulling out a long pin from which natural blossoms hung. It was a simple decoration, yet graceful. The pink stood out like a gentle glow against the darkness of my hair. It was a pin I had had for many decades, something which I left with Julius to keep, a way for a part of me to always be with him.

My eyes sharpened with concern upon his response. To the outsider, he looked as fine as always. But to me, I could see the tiredness in his gaze and the faint rings beneath his eyes. “But you have hardly had any rest. You have been in Reshanta directing the restoration for six months. What if you collapse?”

He chuckled. “Do not look so worried, Bera. A little bit of tiredness is not going to make me fall during the ball.”

I still looked worried, twisting my head around to look at him properly. “But –”

He caught my head, turning it back around to the front. “I am fine,” he reassured me, inserting smaller black pins to hold the loser strands of my hair in place. “Rest does not always have to be in the form of sleep or doing nothing. Just being back home right now is rest for me. No one else is around. No Generals seeking meetings to come to agreements with plans, no Daevas seeking my advice and orders. No eyes constantly watching or persistent calls for my attention. Even when surrounded by chaos, if certain figures are nearby, then the tiredness and stress is alleviated more than you think.”

My expression softened as I understood his underlying message with throbbing warmth. Back here in our manor, he could finally relax. If I was nearby, he could feel safe.

With aching dismay, I acknowledged his message. Just as I felt safe around him . . . he too, felt the same.

His hands fell from my hair and rested on my bare shoulders. “There,” he said.

My attention focused back on my reflection. My hair was gracefully pulled back, held by the blossom pin. A light dusting of make-up was brushed across my face and eyes. My pale skin seemingly glowed like Julius’s, like moonlight, enhanced through the silver and green of our attire.

I turned to look at him, and I _looked_ at him. His blond hair was plaited down his back to his waist, but it shimmered brighter, like a waterfall of gold. His eyes glittered clear without his glasses. His frame was enhanced with elegance in his stunning robed-suit.

He was a breath-taking sight, making my eyes widen.

Even for me, it was rare to see Julius wearing the full formal attire of a Pureblood Daeva. In these clothes, his true ranking was painstakingly obvious. He looked more than a Pureblood. He looked like . . . like an Empyrean Lord.

My mouth went dry.

He glanced down at himself. “Do I have something on me?”

I realised I had been staring too long and quickly shook my head, standing. “No, no!” I smiled. “You look stunning.”

He brought his eyes back up to meet mine. They were warm. “You look beautiful, Bera.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Julius held his hand out to me. “Will you go with me to the ball?” He asked gently.

Even though from the beginning it was the general consensus that we would attend the ball together, neither of us had actually asked the other as traditions dictated.

My heart skipped a beat and my stomach fluttered with butterflies. I reached out and took his hand. His fingers closed around mine.

“Yes,” I breathed.

* * * * *

Sanctum buzzed with activity, music and excitement. Lights and lamps were lit, illuminating the streets and white marble walls within their gentle luminance. The blossoms of trees glowed pink in the soft brightness. The stars of Asmodae glittered.

On the ground, Daevas and humans alike mingled in their stunning suits, gowns, dresses and robes. Daevas were not the only ones who played a huge role in the retaliation of the Balaur invasion. The humans played their part. Some of them did even better and were more reliable than many Daevas. It proved that one did not have to be an immortal to become an outstanding person.

Michael peered around him, feeling giddy and smug. The atmosphere was exhilarating, and the attendants had truly outdone themselves. It was a night where _everyone _had the opportunity to discard their armour and don themselves in fine silks and satins which rippled like water and mist. Those whom he was used to seeing covered in dirt and blood, scruffy and smelly with sweat and fighting, were transformed into royalty.

He and Amia were no exception. Michael turned to glance back down at the Cleric once again. Seeing her in a beautiful dress was a vast contrast to her heavy armour. She looked like a princess.

“Wah! You both look like a prince and princess!”

Michael and Amia turned around at the feminine exclamation. Their attention landed on two people approaching them. Seregon was one of them, looking fairly impressive in his robed-suit. A shorter Daeva was beside him, a young looking woman with an innocent personality.

Michael grinned. “I can say the same to you both, Seregon, Alicia.”

Alicia smiled sheepishly. “Come on, Sere, say something,” she chided Seregon gently.

The two were childhood friends, having grown up together and Ascended together. Now Seregon was a Centurion of Sudryl’s Sword and Alicia was a Deputy of the Guiding Lamp Legion. Even though the two were in different Legions and did not see each other as much as they used to, their friendship was still strong.

Alicia was the one person who could tease and chide Seregon without earning his cold stare in return. It was a wonder that Surion had not used Alicia as a shield against that icy stare.

Seregon opened his mouth to say something when a distant, bellowed laugh drew their attention for a moment upon recognising it. Elsewhere, Surion stood with Helena, the Guiding Lamp’s Brigade General. They stood in a larger group of other important figures.

Amia sighed. “You can hear him anywhere. He doesn’t exactly understand the word ‘quiet’.”

They all sighed and nodded.

A slight shift in the tone of the chatter caused the four of them to turn around to see who everyone was beginning to look at.

Awe whispered through the crowds upon spying four breath-taking individuals. They were Beings of such incredible power and presence that no Daeva could match it, unless it was the Empyrean Lords themselves who were superior.

A Pureblood couple of the House of Senduri glided along the paths, chatting with the other two Purebloods beside them – Lord and Lady Atherton.

Julius and Beralin.

Michael, Amia, Seregon and Alicia fell silent. Despite have been friends with Julius and Beralin for decades, they always had to remind themselves in situations like these that they were also Purebloods. And by Aion they truly looked it.

For once, they were dressed and held themselves as true Lord and Lady, moving with such grace, beauty, and yet with hidden power. It was a presence that had people turning heads as they passed, nodding bows.

Michael whistled. “Now, that is a sight you don’t see every day.”

Amia had her hands clamped over her chest, her eyes moist with thrill and joy. “They look so perfect!” She grabbed his sleeve. “Come on, let’s join them.”

“Alright, alright. You don’t have to pull my sleeve. You will ruin the tailoring!”

Amia let go, but continued to grin. “They look good together, don’t you think?”

Michael walked beside her, with Seregon and Alicia somewhere behind. “Indeed,” he said thoughtfully. Beralin looked at ease beside him. There was a softness in her eyes that had not been there recently and Michael smiled. He was glad to see her well again. Both emotionally and physically. On his rare days of leave during the past six months, he had seen Beralin look healthy once again on the outside, but her gaze had been distant – lost.

Now that he saw his friend again beside their leader, that lost gaze had receded. There was strength again in her eyes, the strength of having Julius return to her side.

He tilted his head down to Amia with a side glance. “Don’t you think we look good together as well?” He purred.

Amia smiled. “Of course we do,” she said straight away. Her tone was laced with pride and warmth. Upon realising it, Amia’s eyes widened slightly and her cheeks turned pink.

Michael chuckled, holding out his arm for her. “Oh don’t look so surprised, Amia. Now take my arm before I lose my control and pinch your cheeks.”

Amia’s cheeks turned pinker and she quickly grabbed his arm, unable to look at him as they walked towards their friends.

Despite Michael’s usual carefree attitude, he felt his heart flutter upon seeing Amia’s expression. True, Amia annoyed him more than anyone else, but he would not have it any other way. And if he could, he would spend every annoying minute with her.

They did not have that time however, therefore it made moments like these even sweeter than sugared water.

The Senduri Lord and Lady were caught by other Brigade Generals, providing Michael, Amia, Seregon and even Alicia with the chance to grab their Pureblooded friends’ attention.

“My Lord and Lady Atherton,” Michael greeted smoothly with a polite bow. “It is a privilege that you grace the ball with your respected presences.”

Seregon raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He asked dryly, while bowing in respect to their fellow Centurion and General.

Julius mirrored Seregon’s expression, except his was amused, while Seregon’s was simply . . . Seregon.

“Yes, really, Michael?” Julius echoed.

Alicia twiddled her thumbs nervously. Michael grinned. “I cannot greet you with a usual clap on the shoulder, not in front of all these people,” he whispered the last part. “They will think I’m mad!”

Amia giggled. “They already think you are mad, Michael.”

Beralin’s eyes looked him up and down with calculation, before she also grinned, but it was controlled. They had appearances to keep up here, masks to wear in front of the high society whose ears and eyes were sharper than ever, ready for any gossip at all.

“Well look at you, Deputy Michael. Don’t you look smart? And Amia and Alicia look as beautiful as ever. Try and keep Seregon smiling, Alicia. He has quite the presence in that suit tonight.” Beralin winked.

Alicia sighed, turning to Seregon. “Sere,” she tutted, placing a hand over his brow gently. “Please do not frown.”

He took her hand and pulled it down, looking away. “You don’t have to press my brow to smooth it,” he exhaled in exasperation, but Michael caught the ever so slight reddening of his cold friend’s face. Michael’s grin turned sly.

“Come,” Julius said to them all, holding out his arm for Beralin to take. “It is about time we arrived at the Great Hall. Let us all arrive together.”

Beralin took his arm, but glanced to her side. “What about Surion?”

Julius’s eyes flashed in the direction of his other Deputy. Michael followed his gaze, watching Surion pause his conversation and glanced towards them. The Gladiator’s eyes landed on their General.

Whatever Surion had been saying to those around him, finished quickly. They bowed and nodded to each other, before making their ways to the Great Hall or other Lords and Ladies, while Surion and Helena came to join them.

The six of them were together once again, with many others, and together, they all mingled their way to the Great Hall that lay beneath the Elyos Square.

The City of Sanctum was famous for its beauty and white-washed walls and blossoms. So many marvelled at what was on its surface.

Yet that was just half of the City. The other half lay beneath it, hidden and guarded away in which only the selected were permitted to enter.

For this event, despite its incredible size, those who were in Sanctum tonight were the most powerful and important figures in Elysea, therefore they were granted access to the secrets beneath the surface.

Michael had been to the underground City just a few times in his life, therefore it was a breath-taking sight to see the rare and enormous halls that few ever saw.

Daevas, Humans, Lords and Ladies all drifted through the halls and corridors, standing in groups and sipping fine wine. It was impossible to tell who was immortal and who was mortal by clothing, for they both looked as fine and stunning as the other. Only the aura could reveal the truth.

As the leading members of the Sudryl’s Sword Legion walked past, people turned to look and applaud.

Michael could feel the weight and excitement on his shoulders and tight in his chest, forcing him to take a deep breath.

Julius’s Legion had done the impossible. They had led the retaliation, destroyed the Balaur’s leading ship, withstood the direction and wrath of the fifth Dragon Lord, and defeated the invasion.

They were the centre of attention. The whole of Elysea knew it, and so did the six of them.

Heartfelt pride bloomed within Michael’s heart. Their resolve had led everyone to victory. They had defended and protected their home. Many lives had been lost, but even more had been saved.

Strength blossomed within him. He loved his home and this land. He loved the people within it. He would do whatever it takes to keep them safe – and he had succeeded.


	13. The Ball

The Ball  


The music played beautifully throughout the city which hummed with the chatter of people. The atmosphere was alive with the excitement of Daevas and humans alike. It was difficult to tell just from appearances who was immortal and who was mortal. Some humans had an even more impressive presence than some Daevas.

It was the best example of how not everything came with immortality.

However, to the Daevas, it was easy to spot who was indeed immortal and who was not. The auras of flowing Aether surrounded those with wings, some more powerful than others.

My eyes flitted around everyone, identifying mortal from immortal with the Daevic sight. But it was not really that sight which I used anymore. Even here, I could now see the green lines with even more clarity. It criss-crossed the air with such intensity and thickness, yet it was as smooth and as light as their air itself.

Yet it still flickered and faded like dust that could only be seen when rays of sunlight shone upon them, before disappearing into shadow when floating out the ray’s beams.

They were brightest however around certain individuals, gathering around them like moths to a lamp. Such figures included the Brigade Generals and other various powerful Daevas, like the one that currently spoke me. I listened and smiled, nodding and replying. Of course I was having as much fun as everyone else. No one could _not _be caught up in excitement of the festive atmosphere.

However, only half of my attention was on the General in front of me. The rest of my focus remained within my mind, replaying the fight on the Flagship against Tiamat. It was the main focus after all of those that came to talk to me.

They bowed and congratulated me on my legendary success, asking questions on how I managed to defeat the Flagship. My response remained the same however, like my report.

“I managed to use Tiamat’s strength against him, and it resulted in the destruction of his own ship. He has a short fuse of a temper,” I mused, referring to Tiamat as male in order to coincide with everyone’s knowledge of the Dragon Lord.

I followed Julius’s advice to the very end. I had to be careful with what I said. I did not fail to hear the whispers of my power being greater than initially expected. There were already rumours that I could be something akin to another Empyrean Lord.

It was ridiculous. I was a Pureblood, not an Empyrean Lord. I did not have the aura of one. But . . .

My gaze flickered to Julius. He stood with another group of noble Daevas. It was impossible for us all to remain together after fully immersing ourselves into the ball. The rest of our Legion was scattered throughout the halls and the rest of the city, both underground and on the surface.

Julius looked as magnificent as ever. He caused heads to turn. Men respected him absolutely. Women were infatuated with him and stared at him in a daze. I could not blame them. Even when I had my back to him, I could feel his presence somewhere behind me. Even without seeing him, his presence was distracting. I was used to seeing him as a librarian in very normal clothes. Even seeing him in his Sorcerer’s robes was a rare thing.

But when I looked at him, he carried an air about him that was unlike anything else. He was a Pureblood after all, as was I, but I did not think that I carried the same sort of presence as he. The other Purebloods I had seen at the ball also carried such tremendous presence, beyond that of the Brigade Generals. However, Julius seemed to possess something even more.

I did not know what it was. It was like that man with green eyes.

_Sudryl . . ._

I had no evidence to support that claim. There was nothing to say that that man who materialised on the Dredgion was called Sudryl. However, there was an unexplained feeling in my heart saying otherwise.

And Julius and I were connected to him somehow.

The current symphony of song finished, and those dancing at the centre of the hall stepped back from their partners and bowed. The rest of us who were along the edges sipping wine or eating delicacies clapped in applaud at the dancers. I for one was most certainly clapping, wearing a very satisfied smile on my lips as Michael and Amia bowed to each other and began to make their way from the centre of the hall.

Despite their height differences, the two of them looked stunning when they danced together and they moved with such grace and harmony. It was a wonder that neither of them were trying to stand on each other’s feet in battle as they danced. Their faces were alive, and was that tinges of pink within their cheeks?

_It looks like they’re beginning to acknowledge what they’re both hiding from, _I mused to myself. Barely a few seconds had passed since thinking that when Michael leaned down to Amia’s level and whispered something. Her innocent smile remained, but it was through subtle means that she hit him in the side at whatever he had said.

I chuckled softly to myself in defeat. _Maybe not, _I corrected my previous thought.

“Would you care to have the next dance with me, Lady Atherton?” A Deputy approached me, magnificent in his suit. The acquaintances I stood with looked at me with approval, and in such a place at such an event, I had to be careful with who I accepted to dance with, and who I declined. This was one such man that others considered worthy to dance with the other high members of society, therefore I did not really have a choice in this case.

I took his hand, and handed one of my tickets to an official before I then entered the dance floor with the Deputy beside me. Everyone was limited to five dances each, and our tickets were used as the tally countdown. It was only the women that carried the tickets as the limitations were applied directly to us, but as a result, it also affected the men. So all in all, it was even and fair. No one could have more than five dances maximum – unless a woman had given her tickets to another.

It did not usually happen, as everyone wanted their fair share of dances.

A new array of pairs took to the centre of the hall while there was a brief intermission of the orchestra. Upon my entry to the floor, from my peripherals I saw other members of my Legion join with excited glances. Seregon was one of those – though lacking the smiles and excitement of the others – with Lin, Deputy of the Ritual Serpent Legion, resting her pale hand on his held out forearm. Her aura and expression was a cold as his.

However, he glanced at me, and there he smiled faintly with concealed warmth. I mirrored his smile back.

The pairs took positions. “Do forgive my clumsiness,” I murmured to my partner. “It has been a while since I last danced.”

He smiled dashingly – and I saw perhaps too much confidence within that. “I am sure you will dance beautifully. No one will notice a miss-step if you are with me.”

I glanced around the hall briefly. There were lots of eyes.

_Unlikely, _I thought in dismay. I had forgotten just how many pairs of eyes were on the dancers when in the middles.

The next symphony began, and I did not have time to re-gather my self-conscious scattered thoughts. Despite it having been a while since I last danced, I knew this symphony and dance; otherwise I would not have taken his hand. My body moved as taught, but it was still somewhat halted with lack of recent practice. My partner most certainly took the lead, moving with power.

I had danced with many people in the past, and everyone had a different style, with varying levels of grace and power and fluidity. There were others of course that I was more familiar with, those being such as my friends and the instructors who had taught me the dances.

But my friends were also teachers in many respects, and vice versa.

I danced, trying to keep my concentration on my partner and to not look beyond the dancers in the centre of the hall. It was not that hard to keep focused. The dancing took up all of my concentration like a dry sponge over a spilled surface. All worries of the Abyss fled my mind, the concerns of my fretting, memories and abilities were temporarily smothered by enjoyment.

For the first time in a while, I was finally enjoying myself. Knowing that many of my Legion had taken to the floor when I did was knowledge which I took to heart, and I could finally smile for real.

Feet stepped lightly across the smoothed marble floor, dressed twirled, suits and robes swished. The air continued to buzz with excitement and chatter.

Then, the symphony ended and so did our dance. My body had certainly warmed up, no longer as stiff as I was upon first entering the hall. Physically I had relaxed now as well as mentally, and I thanked my partner with my curtsey. He bowed low, and we both exited the floor.

“You and Lin looked like quite the imposing pair there,” I mused to Seregon as he walked off the floor with me, and a new array of dancers swept past us for the next one.

Seregon smiled slyly. “It works to keep gossips holding their tongue, even if it is just for one dance.”

“That’s what you think, Seregon,” Surion said, approaching us as we re-joined the crowds on the sides. “You should hear what the people say about you behind your back. They call you the Ice Prince.”

I turned in surprise. “Surion. Where is everyone else who had surrounded you earlier?”

“He snuck away,” Seregon said flatly.

“I did not _sneak_ away,” Surion sniffed. “They were temporarily distracted by you two so I thought I’d get ready to greet you both when you came back.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Speaking of which, how come your first dance wasn’t with me?” Surion asked in miffed dismay.

I returned that miffed and dismayed expression with mildness. “I can’t just keep my dances to those of the Legion – even though I would like to,” she added in a quieter tone. “What about you? You have yet to dance. Even Seregon has danced.”

“He is picking out suitors carefully,” Seregon said, almost emotionlessly as he took two small glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to me. It acted as a defence against Surion who glared at the Spirit Master. Surion was not that much of a hot-headed man to spill Seregon’s drink.

“Oh come now,” Seregon smirked. “It will be expected that a man of your standing at such a prestigious event may find an appropriate suitor. Even Michael has Amia. Our other Deputy should also start thinking along those lines.”

I almost choked on my drink. “You notice those kinds of things, Seregon?”

“He only looks unsociable and horrible on the outside,” Surion smirked back, crossing his arms.

“At least I look like more of a gentleman on the outside than you.”

“What was that, my _Centurion_?”

The jabs exchanged, and I did not stop them as it seemed to help keep others away for the moment. It was rare in events like this that any of us could stand around together. Even just having two of us stand together was a rare feat. Having all six of us was impossible.

Suddenly, Seregon just sighed and turned away. “I think I had best move on and keep mingling. We have an image to uphold aside from enjoying ourselves this evening.”

It was another subtle jab which Surion was going to retort to until I touched his arm with a restraining intent. “You’ll have to save it for later,” I said with amusement. “Others are approaching.”

And indeed, with Seregon’s departure, it seemed to open up the gates for others to come close. Everyone was wary of his cold demeanour.

Surion shook his head in faint disbelief. “I swear one day, one day, I will hit him!” He wrung his fist in determination.

“I am sure you will,” I said, plastering a more controlled smile over my face as other nobles joined us.

“You were wonderfully elegant in that dance, Lady Atherton,” some of them exclaimed.

“Deputy Surion. It truly is a thrilling honour to have you attend the ball. Word of your excellent leadership has become legendary during the deflection of the Balaur invasion!” Others exclaimed.

And so more pleasantries were exchanged and Surion told them of what he had done during the battles. His story had been hyped up in comparison to what I had heard from him and Amia – which was the truer account. But I could see the effect the Surion was going for here. He sought to impress, and he was succeeding.

The current dance finished, and he then offered his hand out to one of the women who listened with infatuation. “Will you have this next dance with me?” He asked her in a gentlemanly manner which was so different to his natural behaviour.

I found myself arching an eyebrow in bemusement, and the woman looked flustered. Her face was burning and she accepted him without hesitation.

The two strode onto the dance floor and Surion took a powerful lead.

“I’ve always seen Surion as very much of a military man. But to see him as such a gentleman too really opens my eyes,” one of the men said in surprise.

“It really makes him quite the figure,” another said. The women looked dreamy.

“The chances to discard our armour and don fine robes allows everyone to become another part of themselves for once,” I said for them and they agreed.

I watched Surion though with a faint shake of my head and trying very hard to keep my smile controlled. The real Surion was not a gentleman. The real Surion was hot-headed, extremely loud and harshly blunt and direct. He liked to joke around, play pranks, and his language was not the most polite when it was flowered with curses on battlefields and with those who really knew him.

Shaking my head with a faint chuckle, I watched Surion take his position with the noblewoman. Alicia also took to the dance floor with another. The atmosphere was buzzing even more than usual when Julius walked out onto the floor with a very high noblewoman of Sanctum.

“Is that Lord Atherton with Lady Ilouise?” One of the women gasped giddily.

“She is beautiful,” one beside her admired. Then she paused nervously and from the corners of my eyes I saw her glance at me.

“Indeed she is,” I praised. “As expected of the heiress to the House of Kelda.”

Upon my comment, the two women relaxed and they went about their talking of the pairs on the floor. The men did not seem to be much different, though a lot of their talk was filled with accounts of previous dealings that had had with certain people.

It was fine. It was good. They were all at ease.

Except for me.

I could not keep my eyes on Julius and Ilouise at all after seeing the first glance. I had to look away, back to Surion and Alicia. Of course Julius would be dancing with all manner of women tonight in the same way that I would be dancing with various other men.

So why did my heart hurt so much to see him with someone so stunning? It had never caused this reaction within me before. Feeling approval, unease or disapproval had been normal before in the past simply out of natural protectiveness. But _now_, I was not sure if I would be able to handle seeing him beside so many beautiful people.

_That was because you had not realised you were in love with him until now, _I chided myself with an internal voice that was dull with sudden misery.

I had to watch myself. I could not let this pain show at all, not at this ball where I was supposed to be smiling and accepting congratulations of my success against Tiamat. Such congratulations were still coming, and I had to constantly keep moving to avoid a massive overcrowding in wherever it was that I was standing at the time.

_Keep smiling. _

And so I did, despite the sudden ache in my heart. I could not get in Julius’s way. It was unlikely that he would ever feel the same way to me as I did for him. I had to be happy for him if he found another. If he was happy, then I was happy.

_If he is happy, then I am happy. It doesn’t matter if he falls in love with another woman. As long as she makes him happy, then I will be happy._

_. . . Liar . . ._

It took me far too long to realise that someone was standing very close to me. He was inching closer and closer.

“How much closer do you intent to stand, Michael?” I said dryly.

“Aww, you noticed,” he sighed.

I looked at him with dark humour. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

He grinned. “True, though it did take you longer than normal to notice.”

I looked down.

“Be careful, Bera. Your smile has vanished,” he murmured.

“My cheeks ache,” I exhaled, sipping on the light wine. The two of us watched the dancers from far back where we were less likely to be disturbed.

“Julius thinks more highly of you than anyone else, Bera,” Michael said softly. My eyes twitched slightly in faint alarm. Did he sense that that was the reason why I took down my smile for a moment? That I could not bear to see Julius with another woman so beautiful?

“He may be with other beauties tonight, but trust me, you’re the only one in his thoughts.” He raised his hands to rest them behind his head. “I’m jealous. It is every Deputy’s dream to be thought of and praised so highly by their leader.”

“Michael!” I hissed, placing my glass on a side table and tried to grab his arms. “Don’t look so casual here! This is a ball.”

He hoisted his arms up higher so I could not reach. “I’ll only bring them down and behave appropriately if you smile again.”

I scowled at him. “You cheeky bugger,” I said under my breath.

He grinned, and I could not help it. His smile was infectious, and it stimulated my smile to return with a disbelieving shake of my head.

He lowered his hands back down to his sides. “There, now that is better. Girls and women always look so much prettier when they smile. And thank Aion that Julius is not here to hear me say that to you of all people. I’ve seen his face when others compliment you.”

“Now you are just making things up,” I mumbled, turning away.

“I’m being serious!” He objected.

I picked up my wine glass again, but my expression softened. “Thank you, Michael.”

He snorted gently. “I’m one of your best friends, Bera. Who else do you think you’re talking to?” He fired back the question I had asked him earlier.

I laughed once, and then looked up at him. He paused.

“Julius does think highly of you, more than you could ever imagine,” I told him softly. “You and Surion are his hands, the people who always have his back no matter the situation. He values you two even more than as his friends, but as his brothers.”

Michael’s expression also softened and partly with embarrassed dismay. His eyes flickered away. “Are you trying to feed my ego?”

“No. I am serious as well. He cannot lead this Legion without you two. The three of you lead the Legion. Together.”

He stared down at me, before he then too smiled a smile that was true and real, soft and warm with friendship and not the cheekiness of goofing around. I could see just how much my comment meant to him. Michael valued Julius higher than even the Empyrean Lords. I could feel it. His loyalty to Julius was absolute. He would follow him into the deepest fires of Balaurea.

As would we all.

I then punched him lightly against the arm, breaking the atmosphere.

“Ow!” He winced. “What was that for?”

“Don’t ever tell him I said that to you,” I sniffed. “Keep it secret.”

Michael chuckled while rubbing his arm. “Keep it safe.”

We both snickered, and the dance ended. It was just as well that I did not see it.

“Well, in this case, care to take the next dance with me?”

I finished my small glass and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter. “Done,” I agreed. How nice it was to say it so casually rather than with such formal language about honour and pleasure.

“How many glasses of wine have you had so far?” Michael pondered as I took his hand and we moved onto the dance floor through the crowds. “You aren’t drunk yet, are you?”

“Two, and they were light. Seregon picked out the last one. He’s a very light drinker.”

Michael looked smug. “Very light,” he agreed.

With both Michael and I together on the floor, a good portion of familiar faces joined. And to my joy, Amia, Seregon, Surion and Julius were amongst them with other partners of their own, even though Surion and Julius had just finished their last dances.

Thanks to Michael’s incredibly kind words, indeed the turmoil in my heart had calmed, perhaps more so to see Julius this time with Lauraia of the Punishing Light Legion. That woman was not just some noblewoman with great power, influence and beauty. Lauraia was a General, unlike the last woman who had never taken to the battlefield in her Daevic life – and Lauraia was a friend.

I could not believe the jealousy and now the smugness I felt at the comparison. I did not think I was the jealous type. Surion had quite bluntly labelled me as one of the most oblivious women he had ever met. And I had preferred that!

Everything always became so much more complicated when love was involved. I thought it was simple, like many of the books I had read. But it was only now that I was beginning to realise that those books from my childhood and youth were nothing more than fairy tales.

It was a sad and bitter realisation – one which I put behind me though for the moment.

With essentially the main members of Sudryl’s Sword ready for the dance, my smile grew broader as I took Michael’s hand. This was how it should be – all of us together.

And so we danced, and unlike with my first partner, I danced with Michael with fluid ease, for he was one whom I had practised with a lot when there was time. There was a great sense of settled and light-hearted peace when around Michael, despite his often childish and over-exaggerated nature.

My glance flickered to Amia who twirled with a man who’s hair was as blond with eyes as blue as hers.

“What about you?” I asked him. “Amia and you.”

He continued to smile. “I’ve already had her first dance and set the standards. She will not stray too far.”

“You sound confident, as well as having acknowledged what you’ve been hiding.”

Michael shrugged slightly. “The invasion made me think quite deeply about my relationship with everyone close to me,” he said, his voice softening. “It made me realise that things are at work now more than ever which are beyond my control, and that my dreams of spending eternity with my friends may not be a permanent reality. If I don’t pursue Amia further out of my own stubbornness, then I may end up regretting it forever. Life is precious. Every day is precious, especially for us. We do not know what awaits the next day, so if there is a chance, then my view is to take it, before it slips away. I don’t want to live with regret, thinking of what may have been.”

He was wise. It was easy to forget when I could spend hours talking to him about the most stupid and pointless things in the world, giggling and laughing like hysterical children. But there was great wisdom to him when he wanted to be.

We danced, and this was one such dance where it involved a lift. Michael lifted me almost too much, as I felt his grip disappear when I rose higher, and then he caught me again and we carried on.

“Thank Aion it’s you for this dance and not Surion,” I said, glancing at the Gladiator that was somewhere else. His partner looked surprised and her face was flushed with exhilaration.

“That brute,” Michael snickered sneakily. “He doesn’t hold back.” He then frowned. “You are lighter than before. Have you been eating enough recently?”

I stepped on his toe on purpose, earning a small hiss from him.

“Still think I’m too light?”

“I think you broke my toe. I will turn Amia on you.”

“You will be unsuccessful. She loves me more than you.” It was a joke said in an exaggerated stern tone.

He sniffed. “I will change that.”

As we danced, I reflected on his words. The invasion had made many people think, and Michael was right. With our duties to Elysea, who knew when we may see each other again when sent off on a mission, or even _if _we would ever see each other again?

Michael and Amia had danced around each other for decades, but neither had gone any closer than what their relationship had established. However, after the invasion, Michael’s view point seemed to have changed. He took the initiative much more in their relationship.

_I think he realised Amia could have been seriously wounded, or worse during that invasion, _I thought quietly. _While he was centred at Teminon directing, Amia was on the front, literally._

It was a shock to his system with that realisation. That entire invasion was a shock to everyone.

Yet, not all of it had been a catastrophic experience. Lessons were learned and in Michael’s and Amia’s case, it had finally served as a stepping stone. It was a thought which lightened my heart.

Our dance finished and I curtseyed as he bowed with a kiss on my hand. “This was a pleasure, Lady Atherton,” he thanked me formally.

“Likewise it was an honour, Michael, my commanding Deputy.”

We both grinned, and exited the floor while others moved on. Indeed it had been the best moment of the night so far, as it was the only time where all six of us were close enough together within the Great Hall. But alas, that did not last, and we were all forced to move to other areas for more mingling and socialising.

Every hour seemed like a lifetime, each one went so fast. I did not stick to the Great Hall all the time, as I went to other parts of the city as well, joined other ballroom dances and spoke with other Daevas and humans.

There was one such human who approached me for a dance. He was shy in nature; I could sense that right from the start when I spotted him. He looked humble despite his fine suit. His friends in the distance had urged him on with drunken encouragement, and noble Daevas looked at him as one might look at a bug or beggar.

So I wiped those expressions by accepting his nervous request and judging from his reaction, he had not been expecting it. Bloodlines and ranking was not everything.

The young human man was my fourth partner. He thanked me so enthusiastically before heading back off to whichever group was his.

“You show the people of Sanctum that you do not treat them as their rank, but as the person they are,” Pernos said, an old and wise Daeva with a white beard to match that stereotype. “It makes you very approachable, like Julius.”

I smiled faintly, watching the human’s eyes light with thrill as he spoke to those of his Legion. “I learnt from him. If everyone was like Julius, then perhaps there would not be so much political unrest within the city. Blood does not always define an individual. Ranking does not always make a person.”

Pernos grunted under his breath in thoughtfulness. “True in many cases, but not in all.”

I sighed. “You are right.”

“Though it may if more could adopt yours and his ways of philosophy. Humility is a rare thing in high places.”

It was the same in all walks of life.

With power came arrogance and rank, and I would be lying to say I was not the same.

I spoke with the old Daeva for a while, until I had an inkling I was probably supposed to be returning to the Great Hall soon.

True enough, a waiter passed on a message from Julius to say I should be heading back, so I bid my respect to Pernos, and headed back to the Great Hall. I was not the only one heading there. And boy was it crowded!

It was tempting to use some stealth to slip between people’s legs or leap up onto the walls and dash along them to get to where I was supposed to be – apparently – but I could not. This was not a battlefield, even though it was as crowded as one.

It took me a while, but I finally found my Legion, spying Michael first because of his height. Then I spotted everyone else, all five again. Surprised, I slid my way towards them. The surprise almost caused me to stumble and get stuck between two people, when Julius’s hand caught mine and he pulled me close to him, into our circle.

“You found us at last,” he said lightly. His entire face seemed to brighten.

“Michael’s head was a good light post, being taller than most,” I exhaled breathlessly.

“What?” Michael said distractedly, having been talking to someone else.

“What took you so long?” Surion tutted.

I pointed behind him. “Have you _seen_ how packed the halls around his one are?”

“That’s because the Seraphim Lords are going to appear,” Amia exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve only seen them once!”

“You are luckier than even some of the veteran Daevas who have never seen them,” Seregon mused.

A pulse of anticipation and . . . nervousness thumped through me upon this news. “So they are making their appearance after all.”

I did not feel as happy as I should have. The Empyrean Lords were many things, seemingly Gods themselves. They were mysterious and secretive, like Julius.

They knew many things which I did not, some of those being about me when I myself was struggling to come to terms with who I was.

“_Ah, so this is Beralin?” The Lady of Light exclaimed lightly. She was so beautiful, a pure angel of light. Beralin felt her lips part in awe._

_The little girl curtseyed as best as she could and the Lady of Light smiled gently. It was a smile that made her seem even more beautiful beyond all proportions. It was beyond divine._

“_I have heard many lovely things about you,” she continued with a voice as sweet as honey and as gentle as the breeze of sun-kissed air. “You are beautiful and powerful. You are so very special.” _

_She said many nice things to Beralin which warmed her heart. But when Beralin looked to Julius nearby, she saw him smiling softly, though it had not reached his eyes. They were watchful and . . . careful._

_When Beralin left the Lady’s manor, she asked him, “Julius, do you not like the Lady of Light?”_

_He went down on one knee before her with a silent sigh. It was heavy, and his smile was sad. He took her hands. _

“_Bera,” he said quietly. “Be careful of Lady Ariel.”_

Back at the time, I had been incredibly puzzled and confused as to why he would say something like that. But over time, I came to realise why. It was subtle, but Lady Ariel had always been interested in my fighting, my interests and Aether. Her questions hinted at something concealed beneath, linking back in the end to the Prophecy and the Key.

She seemed to know something. All the Seraphim Lords did. They had been pressing me since the very moment I met them. Julius was the only one standing between them and I.

My arm was looped through Julius’s, and subconsciously my grip on him tightened. He glanced down, and placed his other hand over mine. It was a motion which made me realise how tightly I was holding onto him.

Julius smiled at me comfortingly, and in that smile and that gaze was reassurance.

_Be careful with what you say._

My grip on his arm relaxed and with a deep breath to calm myself, I let go. Julius was here by my side. There were things he knew about my deeper self that I did not and . . . and it was something he wanted to guard from the Seraphim Lords whom I could not read at all.

He was always there to protect me. Julius was my guardian. There was nothing to fear. I knew I had to be careful. I knew my words had to be chosen wisely.

The hall was static with excitement and anticipation, and then it peaked with excitement and cheers as five white lights shimmered onto the platform at the far end of the hall – where my Legion was closest to.

The orchestra was behind and their background music calmed to quiet. The presence of the five auras sent the air vibrating with power and energy with breath-taking awe.

From within the five white lights that were lined along the front of the platform, five figures stepped out. The cheers were deafening. The entire city shook.

The five Seraphim Lords stood – physically – within the hall itself. They were here, our divine leaders and rulers of Elysea, the first of the Ascended.

It was a magnificent sight to behold, one that would go down in history as legend.

The cheers and applause beat against my eardrums, even though I was one of those thousands that clapped.

“Shine Light! Flee Night! Praise thee, the Seraphim Lords!” All chanted. “Faith and Arms!”

Lady Ariel held up her hand. It was such a small and delicate movement, yet it was one that carried such tremendous power and presence!

_Like Tiamat, _I gulped. Seeing the Seraphim Lords again in person, experiencing their presence all brought back the overwhelming feeling of being so powerless against Tiamat. Those that whispered of my power to equal that of a Dragon Lord would not be saying that if they had stood in her presence . . .

Eventually, the roars and cheers died down. Eager silence settled.

“Tonight, we come to this ball which is held in honour to all of those who fought to resist the Balaur invasion,” she said. Her voice was light and gentle, as I remembered it, but it carried power and volume that transcended the walls of the hall. More cheers and applause erupted with the same intensity, and Lady Ariel had to wait for it to die down again.

“It was the greatest invasion of this Age, and therefore the greatest retaliation of this Age. The people of Elysea pushed back the Balaur threat, showing the courage of our hearts and the determination to protect this land and our home!”

There was another wave of applause.

Nezekan spoke. “So many of you stand before us, well and alive, a testimony of our victory. But many faces that should also stand with us, do not. Many lives were lost, laid down in sacrifice to protect our land of peace and light. May their Spirits rest in peace, and may our sincerest wishes go out to the living who have lost their loved ones in this battle, knowing that their deaths had not been in vain. The lights of their Spirits shine and darkness flees in their presence!”

“Shine Light! Flee Night!”

Ariel held up her hand again. “Everyone played a pivotal role during the invasion and the following aftermath, from the Generals who led the deflection to the craftsmen and cooks of the Temple of Artisans, Daevas and humans alike! Everyone carried out their duties to Elysea with utmost loyalty to their land and leaders, of which we are so proud to have such incredible people help us protect this world. Our victory could not have been attained without everyone’s input.”

Heartfelt praise rippled through the crowds. People dabbed at escaped tears.

“But most of all, victory could not have been attained without the excellence of leadership from the commanders of the Sudryl’s Sword Legion.”

Upon that announcement, deafening roars erupted in intense applause as powerful as when the Seraphim Lords first made their appearance. And all that attention was now directed at our Legion which stood closest to the front. Then even our Legion turned around to face the six of us in tremendous praise.

In that moment, the attention of the entire city was on us and what we had done. Together, we had deflected the greatest invasion of our time and defeated the Dragon Lord Tiamat. And everyone knew it.


	14. One Last Time

One Last Time  


I sat high above the city and far out away from the main island. Sanctum had many things in its incredible city, but much of it was off-limits, such as the place I was at now. Around the edges of the city, high above the buildings were towers that seemingly floated in the sky, but they were connected to the others by spindly arms which barely arched like slender bridges that were as thin and delicate as white branches of yew.

Normally it would be impossible to reach such high and far out places, as the only logical way to reach them was through flight. But since that was off-limits, it seemed like there was no other way to reach the connective bridges. But there was a way – across rooftops and climbing through a few windows.

The result was perfect solitude within freedom.

I sat on the edge in the middle of one of the connections. The bridge was barely wide enough for one person to walk along it. My legs dangled over the edge with my heeled shoes resting beside me so my feet were bare.

If anyone saw me – which was virtually nil – they would have considered me to be a suicidal fool. I was too far out from the main island to glide back, and the land below was too far down for my wings to handle the endurance of being open for that long. Therefore if I fell, then I would most likely die.

I touched my necklace faintly.

_I will not die. I will live. I will live beside Julius forever._

There was no fear from where I sat despite its location. It was quiet here, free and peaceful, spacious with just the wind as my company. Here, the lights of the ball were centred back on the main island. The city seemingly pulsed with light in the darkness of the night. It was a light screen. I could see them, but they could not see me, as was the nature of light and shadow.

When the Seraphim Lords had finished their speech, followed by Julius’s, the crowds of praise were overwhelming. It was suffocating.

They did not know. They had no idea I barely stood my ground against Tiamat with an ancient power that had never been heard of. I could feel the eyes of the Seraphim Lords burning into my back with the questioning knowledge of what may have been the true cause of the invasion’s defeat.

I buried my head in my hands. What was this Prophecy, the Key and Vessel that I had heard Lady Ariel refer to in the past? And how could so few people be aware of it? Why did no one else know?

It was like my Legion. Sudryl’s Sword. It was named after _him_, that man with the aura of an Ascended Empyrean Lord!

Yet in all my past readings I had not heard of him once. The only references of him were from my dreams and scattered memories, the Legion itself, and Tiamat. Julius had said Sudryl was a Daeva from the Ancient Ages long before the Cataclysm, and he may be right at this rate, so lost in time that this Sudryl had been forgotten. But then that meant Julius knew who he was, just as Tiamat knew. And . . . and in my heart, I felt like I knew him too.

But I could not remember. My mind and heart would not make that connection. It was only our eyes that made a connection.

Things were stirring. Events were put into motion which could not be undone with that battle during the invasion. I could not keep sitting around fretting and worrying about how this Prophecy to save the world was connected to me.

I raised my head from my hands and stared out into the night and the stars. Some stray blossoms flitted past. They were bright, bright to my eyes which could see the criss-crossed lines of existence that gave them substance. The same lines flowed through the air in the wind, rippling like water, fading and then appearing here and there as gentle as a soft breath.

During the night when Sophie lost her mind, I bent these lines. During my battle against Tiamat, I weaved them for my defence. It had been almost effortless, requiring nothing more than a directed thought and exertion of my will.

I wondered . . . if I could do it again.

_No,_ a part of me whispered in fright. It was a power beyond my comprehension, beyond my limits as an Assassin. I was not supposed to manipulate Aether in such complex ways.

What was I supposed to do? I could feel that power as well as old memories stirring deep within me.

“I thought I would find you here.”

I jolted slightly at the unexpectedly close voice. Turning my head to the side, I saw Julius walking along the bridge as lithe as a cat. My eyes widened slightly.

“How did you know I was here?”

He tilted his head to the side. His eyes were gentle, yet so piercing, striking right through my heart. “I will always know, Bera. I can feel your presence anywhere, no matter how far away you are.”

Julius held my gaze. His words caused my heart to beat so hard that I was sure he could hear it as he came closer. But I could not look away; I could not hide from his gaze at all which could strip me down to the barest bones, not until he broke the contact. It was a tension that so was intense, yet with such exhilaration it made my skin tingle. With that break, it was like the strings which held me in place were cut and my breath almost whooshed out, having held it in.

Only he could make me feel like that. No other.

Julius sat down next to me with ease. I did not have to hold out an arm or hand in case he fell.

“You have picked a marvellous place to sit, even though it is just as foolishly dangerous,” he breathed, letting the wind stroke his hair while he gazed out at the night sky.

How did I never notice his incredible beauty behind that usual plain appearance? Since when did I begin to realise how handsome he actually was?

I looked away, back into the night with him and snorted softly. “Nothing good comes without a price.”

His expression cracked slightly. Our victory came at a great price and all too near-misses. I was one such near-miss.

“Should you be out here?” I asked softly. “It is alright for me to run from all the attention after the Seraphim Lords’ presence and announcement; but as the Brigade General, it must have taken some skill to slip away as well.”

He scoffed. “I only led the restoration. The main focus is actually on you five. So it should be the other way around – me wandering off and you stuck in the hall.”

“You _only_?” I repeated. “You are sounding like Michael now, putting yourself down.”

Julius chuckled. “He is vain. I am not.”

I sighed. “True. Though Surion is vainer.”

“The two of them let me go after realising you had disappeared. They will do a good enough job of keeping the eyes of Sanctum away from us for now,” he said.

I smiled faintly, imagining Michael and Surion at the centre of attention. Being who they were, I had no doubt in their skills of keeping everyone surrounding them. There was thanks in my heart for their thoughtfulness, for buying time for Julius and I to be together at this ball, just this once. Arriving at the ball with him was not enough. I wanted to stay like this forever, just the two of us here out on the far bridges of the city where no one could interrupt this serene peace and solitude.

Now that he was here beside me, I did begin to take Michael’s earlier words to heart – in hope. Could I really be the only one in Julius’s eyes and thoughts, more so than anyone else?

_Ah, stop it Bera, _I chided myself, closing my eyes. _How many times am I going to keep thinking about him like this when there are so many other things I should also be thinking about?_

“How are you finding the ball? Are you enjoying it?” Julius’s voice seemed to thread into the breeze like he was a part of it. “It has been the first event of light-heartedness since we were all dispatched to the Abyss.”

My gaze flickered to the side, so from my peripherals I could look back at the city, see its lights and hear its music. I smiled. “I have enjoyed it, my first one for twenty-four years, and by far the most impressive of all the ones we have been to together.” My eyes drew back to Julius. I could still see the tiredness beneath his eyes. “If we were not required to stay through to the very end, I would suggest that we leave early.”

“Why?” He looked surprised.

I flicked his forehead gently, causing him to flinch. “Because you are tired, that’s why. Others cannot see it, but it is as obvious as day to me.”

For a moment, it looked like he would say otherwise, but in the end, he just smiled and closed his eyes. He rested his head against my shoulder and I felt his weight lean into mine.

“Yes, I am tired. Tired of having to stand strong,” he murmured. “But here, I can rest – even if it is for a short while.”

I wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “Then rest,” I said gently. “Put aside your responsibility as General for this moment and just be Julius.”

Together, the two of us sat in peaceful and solemn silence, listening to the sounds which came on the wind. The sky fishes streamed past.

Indeed Julius was right, the ball was held in honour for the five of us, the elite members of Sudryl’s Sword who pushed back the Balaur threat. The ball was a great honour, greater than any that I had ever experienced, but right now it was unimportant. It was this moment here, with Julius, that was so important.

He may not have been the one to deflect the armada, but he was the one who restored the defences of the Landing and the surrounding Fortresses that were under Elyos command. It was a feat which would take anyone else a minimum of nine months, but he had done it in five. He kept our borders safe, he looked after everyone in Elysea . . . like an Empyrean Lord.

But most of all, Julius was the one who saved my life.

White blossoms flitted through the towering trees of the island and sighed out across the night sky. They brought with it the sweet perfume of their scents and I reached out to catch one swishing past in the wind.

Julius’s hand caught it first.

“White,” he whispered. “A colour of divine purity. Yet you have always preferred the blossoms tinted pink, when you yourself have never liked the actual colour pink.”

My memory of the first time Julius put blossoms in my hair was clear. They were pink, not white.

“They may be pure, but white is also nothing, empty,” I said quietly. “Pink has colour. And in these blossoms, they are gentle and mild.”

Julius twisted the blossom delicately in his fingers. Gradually, the white of the petals turned light rose from the influx of his Aether through its capillaries.

“Julius,” I said.

“Mmm?”

“I never said thanks to you.”

Julius paused, and sat up. “For what?”

I looked up at him. “For saving my life. If you had not come, then I would be dead now. So, thank you.”

When he had first told me about our lack of ability to be resurrected after death like a normal Daeva, I did not believe him. But my battle against Tiamat had made me think and realise otherwise. It was during that fight where I knew – then and there – in my heart that if I fell, I would fall forever.

I trusted him completely. He never lied.

Julius stared at me. The wind sighed between us, swirling and dancing with the leaves and petals of the trees.

His expression softened and he took my head, leaning forward and kissed my forehead gently. “I will always protect you.” Julius rested his forehead against mine.

“I know,” I whispered. Tears stung the corners of my eyes. His words, his thoughtfulness and kindness made my heart ache so much. I did not deserve to have someone like him in my life.

This moment was suspended in time and encased in memory.

He pulled back and laughed softly as I dabbed my eyes. “Teary?”

My returned laugh was somewhat choked with thickness. “Well after everything that has happened, it’s no surprise.”

Julius drew a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me, knowing that my dress had no convenient pockets for useful things, nor did I carry a purse.

“Indeed it has been quite the journey,” he breathed. “I’m glad the ball finishes it on a good note.”

“But it is not quite finished,” I said, almost meekly, and pulled out my final dance token from my glove. “This is my last one.”

He looked down at the strip of paper. His eyes and expression warmed with such a breath-taking smile, and Julius closed his fingers around mine. “Then, may I be presented with the final honour of having your last dance, Bera?”

“Of course, Julius.”

My heart leapt and we climbed to our feet. The bridges not only connected the suspended towers in space, but also suspended platforms, joined together. Therefore the two of us walked along the thin bridged branch, almost like how we used to walk through the trees in our childhood.

The platform was empty, like the rest of the places off-limits. The music was distant here, but it did not matter. It was a dance just for the two of us, with no eyes watching except for our own.

At the centre of the platform, Julius held out his hand to me and I took it. My other hand rested on his shoulder, while his was placed against my waist. We stood so close, I was so aware of him that it was almost tempting to pull away. However, I did not. He was a man whom I could feel completely safe with, yet entirely free simultaneously.

As was the nature of our relationship.

The two of us danced together, just us two.

I sank within his gaze which were like pools of liquid emerald, that were as calming as the silence of sleep, yet I did not drown. Our feet stepped across the marble as soft as fleeting clouds and as light as air. My dress and his suit twirled like swirling water with the power of a maelstrom, yet as calm as a tinkling stream.

Our bodies moved in perfect coordination with each other, knowing exactly where to step, when and with how much energy. Julius was the one I danced with more so than anyone else, from as young as when I was a child to as old as I was presently – almost a hundred years. It was muscle memory now, and a merge of our thoughts into one entity.

Perfect balance, perfect harmony. Two people, one mind.

One heart.

We danced together through the night laughing and smiling.

* * * * *

The ball had finished, mostly. Just some people remained, having final talks with others before they departed back to their homes. Others were those who had drunk too much and were passed out on chairs, over tables or elsewhere in the city. Waiters and cleaners were beginning the long clean-up which would last well into the following day, though since they had been awake since the beginning of the night, their shift changes with the next group would allow them rest, and the clean-up would not be halted either.

Ariel was one person who was still present. Nezekan stood to her right. The other Seraphim Lords were somewhere too, elsewhere in the city with the last of the Daevas who remained for last minute conversation.

To Ariel’s disappointment however, Vaizel had already left. He could never understand the social complexities of society or the painstaking troubles they all went through in order to ensure control and peace, and hierarchy to warrant that control remained maintained. As a Seraphim Lord, no matter how much Vaizel despised the complexities of society, he really should have made an effort to stay through to the end of the ball.

But like the wind, Vaizel went wherever he wanted whenever he wanted. It was impossible to keep a leash around him.

_I suppose I should be happy that he even came to the ball,_ Ariel thought with a soft sigh, thinking positively.

The ball had been a superb success, and it had lightened Ariel’s already bright mood. She was so pleased to see everyone so happy. She was so proud at the magnificent achievement of this Age, and she had Sudryl’s Sword Legion to thank. Their flawless teamwork, leadership, organisation and coordination had won the Elyos success over the Fifth Dragon Lord.

And it was by Beralin’s hand directly that they had earned such a legendary victory. Even though the Pureblood Daeva stood in front of her now – an image of striking elegance and subtle beauty of which Beralin hid and never acknowledged – with a polite expression as worn by the Daevas of nobility and chatted to her with high mannerism, Ariel could see it in her eyes that Beralin preferred to avoid the compliments on her accomplishment.

Even now, it was the same in the Water Garden where they gathered. The water of the fountain and fall bubbled and splashed.

“It is a true honour to be praised so highly by Lady Ariel over my mission’s success,” Beralin said respectfully, yet with brightness in her tone. Her expression looked pleased and happy. It would have fooled others, but it could not fool Ariel. No true face could be hidden behind a mask from her light.

_Except them, _she thought silently. _Sudryl, Julius and Kaisinel._ _Even Beralin was impossible to read in the beginning._

Ariel’s light eyes flickered to Julius who stood behind Beralin on her left. His expression was mild and open, but his eyes were careful and very different. He watched, always watched and listened. He would not let Ariel ask what was truly on her mind, and she could not let him interfere with her intentions.

As a result, the two were at a stalemate.

“You must now also know that Tiamat is a woman in truth,” Ariel continued, keeping her thoughts silent.

Beralin nodded. “It did not take much precedence in my mind at the time. But now I understand why she bears such a banner. She fooled me, right from the beginning.”

Ariel exhaled softly. “She frequently takes the form of an Asmodian woman to fool both our enemies in Asmodae, and our own people in the Abyss.”

Beralin’s expression changed slightly. It became heavier. “She concealed her true aura to the extent that I could not sense her true nature at all until she revealed it.”

“Tiamat wields great power. She is not to be underestimated.”

“Unchecked power and no control, but with direct vision and purpose.”

Ariel felt a sliver of hope. Would Beralin reveal the truth as to how she really destroyed the commanding Dredgion?

“Her own power and temper destroyed the Dredgion. I was very lucky.” Beralin bowed her head slightly reverently. There was a hinted note of finalisation in her tone, and Ariel felt her hope turn to bitter disappointment. She could not push further. As Julius had said before, Beralin’s report was final.

Ariel smiled kindly. “Thank you both very much for attending the ball, Lord and Lady Atherton,” she said. “I will let you go and have some rest before work begins again in the Abyss.”

Julius and Beralin bowed deeply in respect. “Lady Ariel. Lord Nezekan,” they intoned. So alike, yet so different.

Aion’s Vessel and Aion’s Key.

Ariel and Nezekan nodded bows back, and the two Purebloods turned and left the Water Garden. She watched their retreating figures in the starlight.

Julius met her gaze. It was as if a towering wall had been erected before her, a wall that he would not let her pass.

It was a wall that she _could not_ pass.

Ariel sighed ever so slightly and Julius and Beralin disappeared, no doubt walking to the Teleporter to return to Oriel.

“Julius guards her too well,” Nezekan said deeply.

Ariel rested her hands on the railings. “She is still not aware of her full power, though I am very sure she is beginning to become conscious of it.”

“Even so, she is careful enough to not say any word of it. Her report contains no hints or clues at all.”

“I do not think she has even spoken to Julius of this.”

“No,” Nezekan agreed. He exhaled heavily as he gazed up at the sky, at the stars of Asmodae. Was he thinking of his wife?

“As soon as the Dredgion flagship had been destroyed, I sent a secret platoon to investigate its remains. This you are aware of,” Nezekan said, his voice containing no hint of the woman who had just been in his thoughts.

Ariel nodded. “It took them a long time to find it.”

“It had been scattered far and deep. The platoon almost called off the search. However, it was rediscovered and there were some interesting finds which they could not explain.”

Ariel glanced at him.

“The Dredgion had indeed been destroyed by Tiamat’s flame as witnessed by our soldiers. However, it had destroyed the ship like a blade of fire had cut it in half. The investigatory team were unable to hypothesise a theory as to how such a phenomenon came about, though one formulated theories along the correct tracks.”

Ariel’s gaze sharpened. Old memories of seeing the true abilities of Sudryl, Julius and Beralin flashed through her mind, fading around the edges from age, but still very much clear in their overall impression.

“Her real power is beginning to emerge more evidently,” Ariel said, her voice low.

“So it seems,” Nezekan approved. “Vaizel looked more closely at the ruins of the Dredgion, and he has come to the decision that it is likely her manipulation of the Aether Weaved a wall of Aetheric energy that blocked a direct attack from Tiamat, resulting in the Dragon Flame slicing the ship in two when it had nowhere else to go.”

Ariel’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

_Such frightening power; power _ _which_ _ equals the Empyrean and Dragon Lords._

Just how was the power to Weave linked to the Prophecy? Just how were Sudryl, Julius and Beralin – the three – related to the life force of Aether and the life of Atreia?

What connection did they have to Aion?

* * * * *

The ice and cold of Kurngalfberg was bitterer than anywhere else in Asmodae, colder even than the Lady of Death – Triniel. There was no winter colder than Ereshkigal’s breath, for that was who he was, the Dragon Lord of Winter.

So different to his other Dragon Lords. So different to Meslamtaeda, the Dragon Lord of Death and Fear whom Azphel and his Shedim Lords had repelled six months ago.

Azphel walked through the snows of Kurngalfberg. It was so white, so bright against his dark eyes. The snow seemingly glowed and became the source of light within the freezing darkness of Beluslan. The fluttering flakes danced in the air, landing softly on already thick snowfall, on rocks which were pale with ice, on plants that had evolved to cope with the frozen temperatures.

Snow absorbed all sound, muffling it and softening its sharpness. Even whispers of the wind through the ruins of Kurngalfberg were swallowed by the flakes of fluttering pureness, trapping noise within its icy flowers.

It truly was a beautiful place of white clarity, stark against the darkness of his rolling shadow.

_I wish you could be here to see this, Amana_, he thought quietly. _Such whiteness, like your hair and skin. So peaceful and gentle, like your personality. So sharp and bitter, like your temper._

Even while buried beneath the curse of eternal winter, Kurngalfberg was sorrowfully beautiful in its frozen slumber. It was so very much like Ereshkigal himself. What he sought to keep buried beneath this ancient city was a mystery to all, and a mystery to even Azphel.

But, Azphel could still remember the days when this city teemed with life and warmth, overflowing with Aether and hummed with advanced technology which made today’s look feeble. So much was lost aside from lives in the Cataclysm.

Culture, knowledge, history and technology and so many other things. There were so few Daevas left now to remember.

Azphel avoided the Daevas who were stationed within Kurngalfberg, being investigators and Daevas of Flame. They all sought solutions to break the curse and melt the ice which entombed the ancient city. But after all these centuries, no such solution had been found.

Ereshkigal had intended for his curse and breath to never lift from this city. But Azphel’s people still tried, and Azphel would not stop them, because despite the beauty of this sleeping wonderland, it was not the same as when life ran in flowing waters and heat warmed the stone pillars of the towers and temples. Azphel would not have the Balaur influence within his lands.

However, Azphel’s destination within Kurngalfberg was one that could not be reached without passing others. Ghosts naturally flitted across his paths, Spirits of the long dead who once lived as citizens of Kurngalfberg. They attacked normal Daevas and peoples when approached.

But against Azphel they stepped back. They could not recognise the faces of the new, but they could recognise some faces of the old. And Azphel was one such face.

The ghosts recognised their leader in death as they did once in life, and they did not cross his path as he trod softly through the snow.

Deep within the ruins, snow and rubble gathered in the dark corners and ice reflected against the walls. Further down he continued, deep within the forgotten temple until finally, he stepped through the corridors into a vast and empty chamber with a ceiling towering higher than the tallest trees.

For it was within this chamber that the old Elim Elder, Kasadrasil slept. His body and trunk were as dark as rock with ice, his branches were as fine as icicles; his leaves were dead and frozen to spindly fingers, dusted white with frost.

Two Daevas of Flame – clad in the fiery cloth armour of their power – stood close by, gazing up at the sleeping Elder and murmuring to each other in thought. Hope was dying in their eyes as all attempts to wake him and melt the ice were proving futile.

“Do not give up hope,” Azphel murmured behind them.

The two Daevas jumped in shock and spun around, having not heard his arrival. When they did see him and realise who it was whom they stood before, their faces paled further beyond their grey complexion and they dropped down on one knee instantly.

“Lord Azphel!” They exclaimed. “We did not expect your presence here! If we had known then we would have welcomed you fittingly.”

Azphel shook his head. “My presence will remain unnoticed. You will not speak of my unexpected arrival.”

“Our lips are sealed, my Lord,” they said without hesitation, sign of their unquestionable loyalty. Or perhaps lack of self and will. The fine line that separated them both was so thin it was almost merged into one.

“Stand,” he then instructed, and the Daevas of Flame obeyed. Azphel’s dark eyes flickered past their shoulder. “Kasadrasil has not stirred?”

“No, my Lord,” one of them said, voice heavy with disappointment. “We have tried everything that we could think of. Nothing works.”

Azphel stepped past them and gazed up at the looming, sleeping tree. “Do not give up hope. The road may be long and dark, with no sign of the light at the end, but,” he paused, reaching up to catch a falling leaf from Kasadrasil’s frozen foliage, broken from the branch upon Azphel’s mental command and it spun as it fell. His pale and slender claws caught the leaf with the finest delicacy. The frost was cold, and slowly, it melted away as he streamed his Aether through his fingers in the tiniest threads of heat. The water dripped down. The leaf was still green – if dark with age – beneath the frost. Frozen life.

“The light and end is there, waiting,” he continued quietly. “The way is there. It is set. Even if the path cannot be seen, it will be found eventually. There is always a way.”

_There is always a way, _Amana had always said. It was her philosophy, and one that he too began to follow after he lost her. It was the only thing which could help him get up after waking from sleep, the only thing that kept him going when he himself had burnt out long ago.

He felt the sad and thoughtful silence of the two Daevas behind him.

“Leave me,” he said.

Azphel sensed them bow low behind him. “Blood for blood,” they intoned.

He listened for their retreating footsteps until he could hear them no longer, and the leaf slipped from his claws to the frozen floor. Solemn silence hung over his shoulders as he raised that same hand and placed it against face of the giant Elim.

Kasadrasil’s eyes remained closed, his bark was encased in frost and ice, frozen to Azphel’s touch, no longer warm with the warmth of nature coursing through every layer of wood and natural vein.

Azphel could still remember Kasadrasil’s wise eyes, as old as the world itself and as deep as the oceans.

_My old friend, _he thought silently. _Will you ever waken again?_

Only lonely silence answered his mental call. So many did answer his call when he rallied them against their enemies and spoke mightily of inspiration and power. But those whom he truly wished would answer his voice thinned as time passed. Slowly, they were all leaving him, until barely his fellow Shedim Lords remained.

Azphel lowered his hand back down to his sides. So many of the Elim Elders slept. Too many. The life of the land was dying.

“Time is running out, for Asmodae – for Atreia,” he breathed.

He felt the second presence materialise into the chamber with the same subtly as the softness of snow.

“Eighteen months, Azphel.”

Azphel turned around. For the first time since he had disappeared before the Cataclysm, Sudryl made a complete appearance to him. He did not stand as an ethereal wraith or mass of ghostly light. He stood there as a physical man.

It was something which caused Azphel’s eyes to widen. How long had it been since he had seen Sudryl properly?

His true presence was masked, making him appear as a normal man. But that could still not hide Sudryl’s bearing from Azphel. Sudryl’s physical appearance before him meant more than just giving Azphel a riddled message.

This was something of great importance.

“Eighteen?” He repeated.

Sudryl’s composure was calm . . . and determined. Something was set within his all-seeing eyes, which were shadowed by timeless age.

“In eighteen months, you will assemble the armies of Asmodae and march on the Abyss. Find Amaurea’s Fortress.”

Sudryl’s words hung in the still air. His eyes were unwavering.

All questions that passed through Azphel’s mind continued to pass on like the fleeting light of day. Gone.

He could hear it in Sudryl’s voice.

It was the tone, the voice of divine command.

The voice of Aion.

Sudden heaviness weighed down on Azphel’s shoulders as the realisation arrived upon this news, that the final events were now set in motion. Yet following the sudden heaviness was the lightness of determination and action, like a breath which had been held in for too long was finally released.

At last, Azphel’s drifting and wandering had come to an end. At last, there was purpose.

Azphel straightened, turning to face Sudryl directly as respected equals.

Except . . . they were not equals.

Azphel and Sudryl held each other’s gazes. They had all gone through so much, and there was still more.

One last time.

In the end, Azphel dropped down onto one knee – and bowed.

“For Atreia, we will bear arms together. One more time, Sudryl – Lord of Existence,” he whispered.


	15. The Weaver

The Weaver  


It had been a week since the celebratory ball which praised the great victory of the Elyos against the Balaur invasion. The ball itself had been an incredible morale booster on top of the existing victory, which had the whole of Elysea in high spirits. Despite the never ending threat of other Balaur attacks or skirmishes with the Asmodians, pubs were full, its air heavily laden with the smell of ale and beer and laughter. Parks teemed with activity as families went out for picnics and children ran through streets and fields alike, playing like never before. If I did not know better, I would have thought that the war was over.

However, the quick return of Daevas to the Abyss and Ingisson was proof enough that the war was yet far from over. The Dragon Lords still lived. Balaur still patrolled the deep regions of the Reshanta, and our local enemies the Krall never ceased their attempts in opening Abyssal Gates to let their Dragonic masters in.

My friends were such people who had returned, along with many other Legions to hasten the restoration efforts and to reinforce existing fortresses. It was bitterly lonely, surprisingly enough, for I did not return. Under orders from Julius, I was meant to stay at home, which left an empty house to myself.

After wandering its corridors for the first four days, missing and wishing Julius was home, I came to a realisation. Julius’s absence was in fact a stroke of luck, much to the guilt within my heart upon that silent thought. The battle had made me realise how much I had taken his company for granted in the past.

Everything was different now. When I thought back on how things were before for the past near century, there was fondness in my heart and even while I walked the corridors of the Great Library, a smile traced my lips upon the memories. There were good times and bad times, and very stupid times to add on top of all of that.

That was all still when I believed Julius and I were no different from every other Daeva. Albeit, we were Pureblooded, but certainly in terms of displacement, our spirits followed the same law which governed all Daevas – or so I thought.

_Ignorance is bliss,_ I thought to myself.

It was impossible to go back to that form of thinking now. There were things I had remembered which could not be forgotten again. There were people I had seen whom I could not un-see. There were words I had heard that I could not un-hear.

It was as Michael said during the ball.

“_The invasion made me think quite deeply about my relationships with everyone close to me.”_

His conclusion was realising that time may be limited. That if he did not tell those around him how much he loved them, then he may never get the chance at all.

Mine was realising I could not continue to sit in the dark while fragmented memories returned to my awareness. It was time for me to seek the source, to uncover the secret behind the emerald eyes of Julius and I.

As such, it meant I had to go back to the origin, to the name ‘Sudryl’. If he was a Daeva from the Ancient Ages, then what better places to seek the Ancient records than the deepest levels of the Great Library itself?

It sounded simple enough at first. I was allowed clearance to the deep levels and was one of the few who could read and speak ancient Atreian, thanks to Julius’s teachings. Not perfectly, but it was good enough.

However, I also did not want Julius to realise what I was doing, or the information I sought, and therefore hence the guilt which plagued my heart. I knew he wanted me to remain in the dark, but nor could he keep me in the dark for much longer. I knew he knew that. I could see it at the ball, and especially when we met to speak with Lady Ariel and Lord Nezekan in private.

I swallowed my sigh as I slipped into one of the halls. These regions of the library were very quiet and almost deserted. The lighting was dim and sound was scarce. As far as Fuchsia was aware, I was just in the restricted section or Julius’s office. The Library’s Walking Encyclopaedia had no idea I had delved further and deeper. I did not want her mentioning to Julius that I had gone to the deep levels, nor did I have any intention of stepping into Julius’s office. As Supreme Sage, he knew when someone went into his office. He also knew when people accessed various parts of the library and recognised the signature passes of Aether which were permitted in such regions.

Last thing I wanted was for him to suddenly detect my signature in the deep levels.

I bit on my lower lip as I walked the aisles in lithe silence.

_Forgive me for going behind your back, Julius. But I don’t want to be kept in the dark forever. I want to know the same things you know. I want to shoulder your burden too,_ I thought with a heavy, yet determined heart.

It was funny, just what love could do. Now that I most definitely knew where my heart lay, the path seemed so clear. I knew exactly what I was meant to do. And the strength to do it had been in me all along.

Therefore with a firm clench of my jaw, I searched the shelves and indexes for any references to Sudryl.

I came across many references to various Legions, Pureblood Houses, mercenaries bands, border skirmishes between the Elyos and Asmodians, but nothing on the name ‘Sudryl’.

After a few hours of no luck, I paused, still holding a partially opened scroll of old parchment in my hands. There were not many documents on the time surrounding the Cataclysm. Despite its clear fact in history, it was almost ironic just how little was actually written about it.

My curiosity had peaked a number of times which tempted a deviation from my research. The disappointment was strong in my lack of initial progress. It was like asking Julius before, who was Sudryl? What was Sudryl? What was the purpose of Sudryl’s Sword?

The name of the Legion did not even exist until Julius had taken it over and renamed it.

My eyes narrowed at the thought with an idea.

_Perhaps I have to backtrack a bit,_ I thought.

Since the name of my Legion came into existence within only the last half a century, the record of the name would be more recent, despite Julius saying it was the name of an Ancient Daeva.

“_Sometimes to find something, you must look in a place where you would least expect to find it,”_ Julius had said, a long time ago when I was younger and he had hidden something from me in a game of hide-and-seek.

_Seek and find._

I could still remember the gentle whisper of his voice when he said those three words. In those days, I loved those games. I loved the challenges he presented to me. They were fun, yet felt like they were bigger than they actually were, to feel a part of something grander, to prepare me for something bigger.

Those games ended up proving a vital part of my foundations as an Assassin. It served its greater purpose within my profession.

However, I never thought to apply it to a case like this. Julius had always encouraged that curiosity, to seek and find. But when it came to Sudryl, to our green eyes, to the link between him and the Empyrean and Dragon Lords, he said no.

Just what was he hiding?

The answer began with my Legion and the name itself.

I tucked the parchment rolls back into their little alcoves and began to make my way up the levels towards the ground floor. It was a long process. Not because they were long and winding corridors, but because at each checkpoint, I had to wait patiently for someone to pass to allow me through. Using my own signature to cross the thresholds would alert Julius, and I could not risk that at this stage so early on in my search. To be thwarted before I even began would be infuriating beyond compare.

It was about an hour before I made it back to the surface and started again in the main library. Fuchsia saw me again and waved at me with a smile, of which I returned. She appeared to be about to come over, when a visitor approached her and asked her for some help.

I left her to it, and headed into one of the rooms and found the section on recent Legions. Considering the power and popularity of the Sudryl’s Sword Legion, it was not difficult to find the page in one of the great tomes about it.

It had been updated recently to document certain promotions and demotions within the ranks. My name, plus Julius’s, Surion’s, Michael’s, Amia’s and Seregon’s, were also all there. However, I flicked to its history. Summarised, it spoke of how it was founded two hundred years ago by a Daeva called Damas, he named it the White Feather Legion. It was not very combat-based back then, utilised more as a rich club for the Ascended and those of noble blood in high places. Thrandil was the next Daeva to lead it, generally maintaining its original purpose.

Upon Julius’s promotion to Deputy, it then became more fitted for battle and war, and that was when its name became more known in the Abyss, rather than just in Sanctum for its very _private_ and glamorous parties.

The White Feather Legion’s prowess quickly grew and despite Thrandil being its Brigade General, it was Julius whom was spoken about in Sanctum and sought after.

Upon Thrandil’s death in the depths of Reshanta at a previously unknown Fortress, Julius took command and from there on became a Brigade General. He renamed the Legion to Sudryl’s Sword.

This, I knew. Therefore I continued to quickly skim the words. There, it said that due to Julius’s deep interest and knowledge of history, he named the Legion after a powerful Daeva from a time before the Cataclysm. The Daeva was called Sudryl, and the Legion was designed to act as a way for this Daeva’s legacy to still influence Atreia today.

I frowned, and continued. It continued to read that when questioned on further details about this Daeva, Julius said little more, other than Sudryl was a Daeva which should not have been forgotten, yet he had been.

Aside from Julius, not even the Seraphim Lords knew of Sudryl. All that could be said in the entry was that he was an Ancient Daeva. It was believed that Julius renamed his Legion after this person out of interest, in the same way many historians had particular fascinations and infatuations with certain figures or events in history. Even if records were scarce, those historians found records, one way or the other.

I sat back on my bench, staring at the open tome on my table and quietly tapped my toe on the floor in thought. Those few pages in the Tome of Legions was all I could find of Sudryl. And even then, the name Sudryl still was not actually referenced. Sudryl’s Sword Legion came up as a link in itself, but the name alone, had nothing, not even a connection to the Legion by which it was named after.

So already, on my fist day, I had hit a dead end.

I leaned forward with a sigh and rested my head into my hands, not sure where I was supposed to go from there.

* * *

Michael sat on a rock on the outer rings. Surion sat next to him while they both ate a packed lunch which Amia had very kindly made for them.

“This is really good,” Surion said through a mouthful, resultantly spitting some food out by mistake as he spoke. Not that he cared much. Out here, Surion had never cared about appearing like a gentleman.

Michael on the other hand was a bit better mannered, and merely raised an eyebrow at the crumbs which bounced off the red and brown stone, and out over he edge into the swirling nothingness of the Abyss.

“She’s good wife material. When will you eventually propose to her?” Surion continued.

Michael almost choked on his sandwich.

“What?” Surion scowled in surprise. “You never thought I’d push you?”

Michael coughed his throat free and took a swig from his flask before he answered. “Since when did you start caring about affairs of the heart?” He wheezed.

“What? I can’t give my man a clap on the back for playing his cards right?” Surion winked, clapping him on the back anyway. “Who would have thought you’d find someone before me. I’m a catch!”

“For a one-night-stand,” Michael commented with a waggle of his eye-brows. “I mean, look at you. You’re boisterous, you’re messy and you’re always fighting. Definitely not husband material. You just look good.”

“Some women like that,” Surion sniggered.

“Indeed some women do. But going back, where on Atreia did that question come from?”

Surion shrugged. “I’m not allowed to ask?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that it’s very odd for you to start paying attention to the affairs of the heart amongst others. Why is that?”

Michael watched his Gladiator friend, intrigued by the sudden deviation from the big man’s usual choice in conversation and interest. Surion had never really cared about Michael and Amia’s stubborn relationship before. He knew of it, but just did not care.

Surion turned his gaze back out to the depths of the Abyss. The distant sounds of rumbles, shrieks, strange whistles and other forms of noise drifted to them over the stellar winds.

“We’ve all had our fair share of battles in our lives,” Surion said, jokingness aside and seriousness tinted his tone. “But the retaliation was the biggest one for us all, I think.”

“It’s as Lady Ariel said, it was the biggest battle of the current Age,” Michael agreed. “Even the Asmodians were faced with an equivalent.”

“So many died. So many of our men and women were lost in that battle,” Surion said. His voice was heavy, and on one of those rare occasions, Michael could see that loss within his friend’s eyes. Surion may have seemed strong and indestructible to all, but even this powerful Daeva experienced the heaviness of loss and grief.

“Of course, I feel responsible for those soldiers. And even though I haven’t shown it, I do think about them, every day.”

Michael sighed, and clasped his friend’s shoulder. “I know. You are not the only commander responsible for the deaths of soldiers.”

Surion exhaled. “My point is, we are also soldiers, just small pieces in this grand game of chess. Any of us could have died too. Aion, even Bera was almost killed. I honestly thought she was dead when I saw her returned to Teminon Landing. We may be Immortal Daevas, but even we can become so far Displaced that there is no return. I guess it sort of made me realise that I’ve been taking everyone’s company for granted.” He paused, and glanced at Michael. “I think that is the realisation you came to as well, isn’t it.” It was not a question. “That’s why you’ve finally taken the initiative with Amia.”

Michael watched him, before finally snorting with amusement and leant back against his rock. “What can I say? You’ve summed it up in a nutshell.” He turned his gaze upwards. The fragments of The Shattered Temple floated in the murk, and he continued with a heavy exhalation. “You are right. There was something about this battle which feels different to every other one we’ve faced. I can’t explain it, but I feel it’s the beginning of something greater, and far more terrible. Perhaps I am wrong, but it’s a feeling in my gut I just can’t seem to shake. If something was going to happen, I want Amia to at least know that I do love her, as frustratingly irritating as she is to me. It would be my greatest regret should I or her perish before one of us had the courage to swallow our pride and do something about this ridiculous dance we do around each other.”

Remarkably enough, Surion did not laugh or mock or tease him. “That is quite courageous of you, I must admit. Amia is tiny but boy she has the pride and temper of a beast sometimes. You both do suit each other very well. Hopefully you both get married before any of us gets Displaced then,” he grinned.

“Why thank you. You will be my Best Man, by the way.”

“I would be honoured.” Surion then held up his flask. “A toast, to two of my best friends. May their blasphemous pride not get in the way of what should have happened a long, LONG time ago!”

“Hey!” Michael knocked Surion in the abdomen, causing the Gladiator to spit his drink back out as he coughed from the blow. Michael began to laugh.

Surion caught the Chanter in a head lock. “Here! Have a drink, groom-to-be.” The drink poured over Michael’s head as he struggled to free himself from Surion’s impossible vice grip.

The Gladiator’s roar of laughter echoed through the otherwise bleak and desolate Abyss.

* * * * *

The following day, I was back at the Great Library. I was not entirely sure what to do, since yesterday had been a mitigated failure. However, I was old and wise enough to follow the feeling in my gut. There were still no other references to Sudryl, no matter where I searched. But I did find myself in the deep levels, searching through tomes, books, rolls of parchment and digitised copies when the originals were too worn to read.

I was not sure what I was searching for at this point. Regardless, in the same way I enjoyed to spend time in front of book shelves simply browsing titles which caught my interest, I did the very same here to pass the time. There was something about the smell of the dust, of old paper and the wood of the shelves, which was peaceful and calmed my mind. The ambience was soft, the light was gentle. My mind felt free to explore, and I allowed it to.

Therefore I browsed. I browsed many topics, from stories of loves between human and Daeva, to as technical as irrigation in farming. I read little bits of each, learning some things here, enjoying others there, or finding something else entirely dull.

I started following a thread on Aether, reading various descriptions from scholars of all eras on their understanding of Aether. Aether had always been present on Atreia, and was so engrained into our ways of living and thinking that it was as natural and normal as the air we breathed.

As I read, I noticed how the accounts of understanding and explanation varied over the years. The more recent documents described Aether as how we understood it now. It was the mystical energy and power of Atreia, through by which Daeva’s had direct access to and could manipulate it to an extent. It was what made the Daeva’s Immortal, gave them wings to fly on and powered our most advanced technology.

The documents which extended back further into time became more brief in their descriptions, followed by controversial theories which sought to disprove others, or to recover ideas from even older theories. Those older ones were documents closer to the Cataclysm, which, surprisingly enough, became very detailed again, if scarce, as if they were surviving fragments of knowledge left over from the Cataclysm and the time before it.

My days in the Library turned to weeks, and through my reading and notes, I began to see some very curious patterns.

It was interesting, as well as thought provoking, to see how over time it seemed that what was left from the Cataclysm was eventually lost and forgotten anyway, hence the period of controversy in the early centuries after it when the scholars seemed to be arguing amongst themselves over old ideas and the new.

I drew very deep into the reading, losing track of my initial goal as research for the sake of research and extending my knowledge took precedence. I missed this, thinking back to the times when I made more time for books despite the intensity of my early training. I missed getting sucked into a fascinating topic being debated, or a novel in which I felt as deeply for the characters as if they lived for real. I even missed the panic at suddenly realising I had something else to do and was now behind schedule due to getting side-tracked.

It was something I began to realise now, as I went completely off topic from my original plan and started reading a chapter written very recently after the Cataclysm. It was old enough that the hologram even cut off at certain parts, unable to decipher what may have been in the gaps. It was written in a very old script. Hardly any ever used it anymore. But it was still readable, not yet the lost Ancient Atreian script.

The document described Aether slightly differently.

‘_Tis the force of life within Atreia. Aion’s Will and Blood be done. He flows in every stream, sighs in the very breath of wind we inhale. He is threaded through each vein in a leaf, burns with energy in the flame, and glows in the heart of every stone. Aether is existence itself, manifest in the material world we live in, given shape and form by Aion’s design. Daeva’s possess a fraction of His ability to manipulate it, some whom were better than others. Lord Kaisenel, The Lord of Illusion, the Creator and Destroyer of Matter, is our known superior in manipulation of Aether, superior even to the Four Cardinal Lords and Ladies. Only Lady Lumiel, Lady of Wisdom, matched his prowess.’_

I leaned forward, intrigued and flicked through to find the next readable block.

‘_Alas, there was a time before the Cataclysm wherein a concept even higher than Lord Kaisenel and Lady Lumiel existed. Greater than Lady Ariel and Lord Azphel. Superior to Lady Siel and Lord Israphel, as blasphemous as it may appear. _

_The Weaver.’_

I blinked, and paused, staring at the last word.

“Weaver,” I murmured under my breath, rolling the name over my tongue. I had never heard of it. The very idea that there were something, a form of Being greater than even the deceased Lord and Lady of Space and Time sounded absurd. How could anything or anyone possibly be more powerful than them?

_Except Aion of course . . . but this scholar isn’t talking about Aion. _

I leaned back into my seat from within the comfort of one of the many alcoves. Occasionally, a librarian passed, nodded their head in respect, before continuing on with their task. I did not mind being seen. At this stage. As long as they could not see what I was reading, then I was safe from Julius’s all-seeing gaze and very long reach.

The Weaver. Was it a Daeva? A class? A type of plant or animal? An Empyrean Lord? An artefact? A tapestry?

A lump of rock?

There was nothing else in the document, therefore I tried to scan for more references, this time on the Weaver. For a reason that was unclear to me, I felt a very powerful connection with the title.

While on the surface I feigned obliviousness and blamed it on natural and burning curiosity, I had a deeper feeling that it had something to do with the power I had been using in the worst battles of my history so far. It had something to do with Sophie’s death, with the counter of Divine Fortress, and last but not least, my victory against Tiamat herself.

As much as I tried, I could not fool myself.

The day grew late, and I had no luck in finding any further reference to the Weaver. Like Sudryl, the two words themselves did not exist within the Library’s index. It was unheard of, and extremely unusual.

It was two weeks later of rifling through everything possible, and finding nothing, that I then had to rethink what I was doing. I switched off the screen in frustration, exhaling heavily as I leant back again into my alcove.

They were hiding something. Julius, the Seraphim Lords, all of them were hiding something. What secrets did the Seraphim Lords know from the time before the Cataclysm? They were the only ones left alive from then. But then, what about Julius? He was not much older than me, and yet he felt as old as time itself, as old as the Seraphim.

Where was I going to find documents as old as that?

“_What’s behind there?” I asked Julius, walking past a small corridor, which seemed otherwise insignificant, save for the door at the end which was locked by a sleeping Artefact. _

_My eyes widened. “What could possibly be important enough to be protected by an Artefact? I didn’t even known there was one here in the Library.”_

_Julius cast it only a brief glance, before continuing on, reading the indexes on the ancient bit of parchment in his hand from beneath his glasses. _

“_There are many things in this Library which most do not know. Only the Seraphim Lords and the highest librarians and scholars have an idea, or remember, or know,” he said, half distracted by reading the numbers above the doors we passed, before looking back down at the paper to cross-reference. “All of them are from Ancient Atreia, too delicate, or too powerful to be allowed back into the modern time. There is still much from the Ancient Ages that we have yet to rediscover and learn. A lot of history was lost or broken in the Cataclysm. Its been over eight hundred years now and we’re still only scratching the surface.”_

I was surprised to have remembered it. It was a part of the Library I had never been in again, for he called it the Ancient Library. It lay at the very bottom of Sanctum, hidden behind a ward which only he had access to, and only he could authorise as Supreme Sage.

Sitting rigid, I wondered. Could my answer be behind there? Could it be in the Ancient Library, in the one place which was once again, guarded by Julius?

My heart thumped hard in its ribcage, its vibrations and rhythm pulsating through my body in knowing.

However, the knowing did not erase the sudden dread at the task and challenge which lay ahead of me. Without Julius’s seal of authorisation, I could not enter.

Bitterness flooded my heart before I could stop myself. Once again, Julius had thwarted me before I had even begun. Of all the people in the entire world, he was the only one who could best me, who could bind me and control me. Not even the Seraphim Lords had that power nor influence in reality.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. My inhalation travelled deep, through my nose, down to my lungs, and deeper still into my abdomen, filling me up with the smell of the Library, of its musk and dust, of its parchment, its books and tomes, and the knowledge inside. Within the air, within the dust motes which circled around each other like tiny solar systems, the Aether flowed. It flickered in the air, crawled across the pages like water, stood firm in the book shelves and the structure of the walls and ceilings, spreading out, further and further.

It all seemed the same, green lines. Yet it was all so different. Some dense, some thin, some rippling as fluidly as a stream of water, and others as sturdy as mountains. They formed shapes, becoming my surroundings, but in a completely different perspective. The Library sat around me. It was the Aether, the Aether was it.

Pulsating, powerful, yet gentle, fluid, but with immaculate structure, given order to maintain the forms of the chairs and tables, of the walls and of Sanctum as a whole. The air flowed freely, as carefree as pollen carried on the wind. Brighter spots of Aether shone in living creatures. The plants glowed, their roots underground illuminated a far greater body than what it portrayed on the surface. Humanoid forms of light walked the streets, some brighter than others.

The Aether connected everything, including me, to it all. I felt them. I felt it.

I snapped back to reality, gasping and panting for breath. I was sweating.

_What was that?!_ I thought in dismay, and a little fear. For the first time, I was consciously aware of the Aether around me, the same kind of Aether which I had been able to manipulate on those rare occasions which had brought me victory where otherwise it should have been impossible.

It was everywhere, in every fibre of existence, just like the scholar had said in his document.

Was that really what the Aether was? Was it the very matrix of existence? Was that really how our world looked like? Filled with glorious light and power and energy? And we were all connected to it. Everything. It was almost as if I could touch it . . . weave it.

“No,” I said firmly. My voice was a sudden clap of loudness in the silence, making me flinch at the volume and sharpness of it. Automatically I hunkered down in my seat, hoping no one heard.

After a few moments of silence, no one came, nor did I sense anyone coming. I got up, closed down the hologram, put away what physical books and scrolls I borrowed, and decided to call it a night.

That night however, I could not sleep. I tossed and turned, thinking, and thinking. There had to be an answer which lay within the Ancient Library. But there were two problems about getting there. The first was how to get through the entrance to begin with, and second was how to deactivate any of the Artefacts which guarded the doors I wanted to search behind.

There was absolutely no way of getting in without Julius.

I sighed as I sat on the edge of my bed in my shift. There was no light in my room, save for the moon and starlight which trickled in through the gaps of the curtains. It was not the window I gazed at however. It was the darkness itself of my room, the realm of the Assassin. I watched the darkness sit, and occasionally sway this way and that, like the deepest depths of the ocean as beasts swam in the deep, disturbing the stillness.

The currents were gentle, but heavy. They swirled, in circular patterns, round and round, through the open doorway into the darkness of the corridor beyond. It pulled, and so did the green lines which flickered within that tunnel, guiding.

This time, I didn’t fight it. This pull, this instinct, this strange knowing . . . had always been deep within me. I had fought it all these years. Too afraid and too confused to understand. Even my memories had been erased. Yet those memories were now coming back, and the more which came back, the more I realised how connected I was to this strange phenomena. This green light, the flow of Aether and its matrix, and Sudryl, they were pulling me, protecting me, and guiding me.

I changed into a quick blouse and trousers and equipped a small dagger above my ankle beneath the trouser leg. An Assassin never went anywhere without their blade.

I saw with different eyes this night. I prowled through the shadows, their tunnels of darkness and shadow opening their maws to invite me in. There were always many to choose from, but this time the flow of Aether’s green light chose my route.

It took me out of the house and through Oriel’s quiet streets. The lamps lit the roads, but I avoided the lit paths out of instinct. I travelled through the shadows, beneath the shade of the trees and the undergrowth of great plants. I leapt silently over bubbling streams and cast the occasional glance towards houses, mansions, and manors. Most were dark, the inhabitants asleep. But some windows still held the warm glow of light. And the soft sound of someone singing or playing music was never too far away. Oriel, like Sanctum, was never completely asleep.

I continued on my path, letting the green lines draw everything around me. Despite the darkness of the night which everyone else saw, I began to see a wondrous mirror version, but filled with light and so many lines, like the grandest tapestry ever woven, for it was the tapestry of existence. My trepidation was undeniable, but so was the wonder, now that I could stop and actually look at it and analyse it for what it was.

Pausing by a night-blooming chrysanthemum, I knelt down in front of it. Through my normal eyes, it was a pale lilac flower of many petals which all circled inwards tightly. However, through my new vision, the plant shone brightly, drawing up the power of the Aether from the ground to feed itself. In return, tiny glowing spores drifted up and away from its petals. I couldn’t see these spores with my normal sight, but I could smell them.

Even scent was Aether, I realised, like dust motes which puffed and danced through the air. I looked down, through the ground and to the roots of the flower. The roots branched out underneath like the many branches of a tree, flowing like blood flowed through the vessels of the human body.

Tentatively, I reached out, parting the ground as if I parted lose thread. I took a root, a drew it, with a few others, up, drawing a copy of the chrysanthemum next to it.

I leaned back. Two flowers now sat side by side. My heart pounded, with excitement, but also dismay. This was blasphemous. Only the Mages had access to such manipulation of Aether. But none of them could do what I just did. No one described the Aether as something one could weave. No Mage saw the green lines.

Standing up, I moved on away from the flowers, hoping no one would realise that a second one had sprung up somehow in the night. I followed the pull, beginning to feel the dread seep into my bones as I recognised the road I was on. Trees grew thicker here, deepening the shadows of darkness in the murk. However, the quantity of trees also meant the path grew brighter with the Aether, illuminating my way with glorious power, until at last, the path opened up.

The gate to Keep Atherton.

I stood there, beneath the cover of the overgrown rose bushes which had arched from the surrounding wall and over the gate. Between the bars, Keep Atherton loomed.

The scent of roses was strong.

I had a feeling I knew why I had been brought back here. The memories were back, and the answer to my mother’s death lay within. It held all the answers.

Despite my pounding heart, I touched the bars of the gate. They were solid initially. That was how the Aether was told to behave, to become steel. However, upon my touch, in the same way I grew another chrysanthemum, I knew I could also turn these bars into something else. All things in existence was the Aether, and the Aether could be as changing and as fluid as water. It was a tapestry which Aion had woven and created, creating Atreia as we knew it. I was not sure how I suddenly knew that, but in the same way I came to that realisation, I also felt kinship with the same lines which forged the matrix of existence.

They were lines, strings, strings that could be woven, twisted, or broken. Reshaped.

With a deep breath, I passed my hand through the bars, sweeping them to the side as if they had suddenly become vines which hung from a frame above. I stepped through the fluid bars, and stood on the overgrown rocky path on the other side. Turning back to look at the gate, the bars returned to their original form of steel as I let go.

My mouth was dry, and I winced as I swallowed.

_The Weaver,_ a small voice in my mind whispered.

Was this what the Weaver was? Someone who could manipulate and _weave_ the very essence of Aether? I shook my head vigorously. How was that possible?

“But I was an Assassin,” I whispered to myself. However, I paused. “. . . Was? But I _am_ an Assassin . . . or was I an Assassin?” I trailed off. I stood there for a long time.

_What am I?_

Keep Atherton’s memory held the clue.

My hands clenched, and I continued on into the Keep. Dead leaves scattered the floors, vines grew across the walls and ceilings. The grand staircases were cracked and the great hall of the ballroom lay emptied and deserted. Shattered glass and crystal lay strewn across the floor, glittering and shattering the light of the moon. Like a hundred fallen stars they lay there.

I still remembered the balls Sophie and Yohan hosted, even though I was such a small child at the time. The Keep used to be awake with light and the sounds of servants, of fine visitors and smell of fresh food and cooking would drift through the long corridors, making my mouth water. I could almost still smell it. I could still remember running through these corridors, a naive child who believed she was from a happy family and that we were all related.

We were not. It was all just an illusion.

I walked those long corridors now as a very different woman, climbed the stairs and peered into rooms I barely remembered. The memories flitted by me in the Aether. My reflection glanced back.

Stopping, I looked down at the broken shards of what remained of a mirror on the floor. A stark woman, of glowing green eyes, stared back.

Those eyes once again. The same as Julius’s, the same as Sudryl’s.

I brought my gaze back up heavily, and realised where I was. Before me was the shattered doorway into the room in which Sophie went mad. The pull was strongest here, and I realised why I was brought here.

_To finish the memory._

I did not know what happened here all those years ago. Or maybe I did, and those memories had simply been put to one side.

Cold sweat broke out across my brow and down the back of my back. Goose bumps prickled up along my skin. I remembered enough. I remembered my own mother going mad, I remembered the man I thought was my father push me away with hatred. I remembered Julius picking me up, his eyes glowing as he told me to shut my eyes.

I remembered all of that, but I also remembered the bits in between, while the arguments and shouting had raged on in the background, there was something else that was happening. I saw these same green lines back then, and they followed my emotions. They followed my wish to make it all stop.

Trembling, I stepped into the twisted room and inhaled a dusty, shuddering breath. It took everything I had to stay there and not run. The fear in my heart was greater now than it had been even when facing Tiamat. But it was all for a very different reason.

The memory fluctuated in the Aether as it tried to play out while I fought against it. It was not just the fear of possibly knowing what actually happened that night, because it was also the night where the image of the family I was a part of, fell to pieces. Everything came to pieces that night. The mother and father I thought I had, died that night, both in reality and in my heart. Julius was all that was left, the only one who still continued to protect me, even now from across the farthest reaches of Atreia.

And it was because of his protection that I had come so far. He was everything, my greatest strength and also my greatest weakness. He was me and I was him. He was my heart and soul.

My staggered breaths calmed and I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my fists.

_Stop fighting it. Stop fighting. For once, let it flow. Let it show me what I’ve forgotten. _

My fists uncurled, and I opened my eyes, turning to face the door. It was the same way I had looked before. I did not look at the material world this time however. I looked at the Aetheric world.

The memory flowed through the lines, acting it out again.

“_You are all that remains, the proof that he exists! Tell him to come back!”_

“_Mama! Let go! It hurts!”_

“_Do not call me your father, girl of an unknown man!”_

“_Julius. You are his son as well. Tell him to come back!”_

“_Sophie! What has gotten in to you?!”_

“_There are green lines, Julius. Lines of green light.”_

“_Close your eyes, Bera. And do not open them until I say so.”_

I looked up. Both in the memory, and in my current reality, the air of the space I had stared at fluctuated. It was circular, and breaking a part, like strings pulled taut before snapping. The air rippled, space pulled open, and the light and the swirl of the Abyss came through.

My breath choked in my throat as horror settled into my bones. My eyes widened.

It was a gate. If Aether made up existence, then existence, space, could also be manipulated. The tapestry could also be undone, pulled apart, and something would fill in the gaps.

I knew then. I knew what I had done back then as a little girl. There, I had pulled apart space and ripped a hole in existence. The Abyss was what lay on the other side.

I blinked. As I had done then, so had I done now, a sliver, like a crack in the air, shimmered. The essence of the Abyss breathed through it, the sounds of its open endlessness echoed through the cracked gate.

I slumped down onto my knees and stared up at the sliver, horrified. Tears dripped down my cheeks.

This was an Abyss Gate. I had created an Abyssal Gate by tearing apart the tapestry of Aether. Breaking the matrix led into that unforgiving realm, and vice versa.

The sliver widened, but this time it was not me who pulled it apart. Panicked, I scrambled back to my feet and retreated behind me until my back hit the wall. In my panic, I did not think about closing it, nor whether if I could. There were smashed windows behind me. If something came through that gate and was beyond me, I could flee. But what then? What if it was an enemy? Who could I call to help? How would I explain this?

So fluid I barely noticed, but a ghostly humanoid figure materialised and took form. I was unable to hold back my gasp of terror. Power, just like that of an Empyrean or Dragon Lord, emanated from this entity. It was not something I could fight.

I turned my head towards the windows, sighting a desperate way of retreat. As soon as I had done that, I realised my error in my fright.

My strength suddenly left me abruptly, and everything went black.

* * * * *

Julius caught Bera as she collapsed into his arms and he took physical form, still armoured. The spell he cast over her was strong, though against her there would have been resistance. However, in her state of shock and panic, it was an easy feat, for once.

He knelt there, cradling her in his arms and rested his forehead against hers. It was so rare to see her expression so terrified. She was confused, confused by the powers which lay dormant within her but were now awakening. Confused by the connection between he and her, and Sudryl, and the Aether of Atreia.

The pain in his heart was unbearable.

“I have tried so hard to keep you from the truth,” he whispered. "So desperately I'm trying to protect you from Fate." Subconsciously, he knitted the rift behind him back together without a second thought, closing the gate again as he did so in the past when Bera first opened it as a child.

“For over eight hundred years I searched through death, fire and ice to find you again.” His voice was barely audible. “Now that I have you back, I will not let the Prophecy take you. I will fight Aion Himself if it means we can stay together.” He gripped her tight, his voice breaking. “You are the Key I will never use. I can hold Atreia together without your power. I am sorry, Bera. I cannot let you find any more answers. As long as you’re alive and by my side, that is enough – even if you grow to despise me for it.”

In the dark, Julius knelt like a broken man, with Bera in his arms. It was a rare, fleeting moment wherein he allowed his true face to show.


	16. Forbidden Love

Forbidden Love

Despite nightfall, Sanctum never fell asleep. The Hall of Artisans was alight with work and life. Lights from glass windows streamed into the night and the constant hum of song and voices drifted through the air on light winds, dancing with petals and skyfish alike in the currents. Everything felt so carefree, so gentle, soft and light. So safe and so easy.

It was all just an illusion.

Julius strode through the entrance of the Great Library like a wraith. Tall, powerful, purposeful . . .

And frightening.

Fuchsia stood at her tome in the front hall, cataloguing and archiving. A few other librarians were about as well, covering the night shift, plus a few lower ranked Daevas who were up late studying. Julius felt further life deeper within as more of his staff continued to work. The library was a place of knowledge, and knowledge was never denied or withheld from any who sought it. The library was one of the various places in Sanctum which never slept. Seldom were there visitors at this time of night, but there was still always activity.

Fuchsia glanced up, sighting Julius and a smile of greeting graced her face.

Her smile faltered.

“Julius? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on Teminon? You’re fully armoured still,” she asked, puzzled.

Julius’s eyes flickered across everyone in the hall, before touching the minds of those in the lower levels, and returned his gaze to her. He did not return her smile.

“Fuchsia.” His voice was cold. It was distant.

Her expression changed, turning worried and wary.

“The Great Library will sleep tonight. Go home.” His voice echoed through the chamber, its cool and ethereal quality bearing far greater weight than any shout could ever possess. It passed through walls and floors and ceilings alike, touching the minds of all those within the confines of the library.

Fuchsia blinked. “Julius, is everything alright?” Her voice was laced with concern, but Julius did not miss the sudden pounding of her heart and the tightness of unease in her chest.

“Do not enter again until dawn,” Julius said, cutting short any questions which may have come his way. “This applies to all of you.” His command was telepathic to all who were inside. “Sleep tonight. Resume you tasks come morning.”

Silent compliance answered him, as he felt everyone put down what they were doing, and began to leave the library. They all left swiftly, but without haste, leaving Fuchsia as the last to exit.

She approached him tentatively. “Julius . . . what is going on?”

Julius stared down at her and allowed a flicker of his glow to glitter in his eyes briefly. Fuchsia’s eyes widened and he saw her face pale.

“You must trust me, Fuchsia,” he said quietly. “There is nothing to fear, but I must have the library this night. You will tell no one of my being here.” The final utterance he murmured with final command. The Aether was infused within his voice, between the words, woven into their meaning which sat within her mind.

Fuchsia did not move, as if frozen. Then, she swallowed, and brought her gaze down instantly and bowed her head.

“Yes, Lord Atherton,” she said hoarsely, and exited behind him. Julius listened to her footsteps until they had passed the great doors, which she pulled shut behind her.

He sighed, her shoulders sinking slightly. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against them.

_I am sorry, Fuchsia_ , he thought grimly of his best scholar.  _But no one can know of what I will do here tonight. Not even the Seraphim Lords._

Bera’s expression was still fresh in his memory. He could still feel the lingering touch of her power from Keep Atherton. Power which he had not felt from her in over eight hundred years. Power which he had vowed to keep sealed and hidden for as long as he lived. Power which he could not allow to return to Atreia.

_I know what fate awaits you at the end of this path, Bera, and I will do everything in my own power to save you from it._

Julius lowered his hand and his expression smoothed, and his shoulders straightened. 

He opened his eyes. He saw with Aion’s Eyes. The Tapestry of Aether sprawled out before him. It was a world of light, of lines and endless possibilities. It was the sight of existence, of matter and anti-matter. 

It was a world which had been given shape and laws by Aion, it was a Tapestry which He had Woven. However, there were three others who could also Weave it and change it. 

Julius began to walk. As he walked, in the physical plane, certain pages, scrolls, parchments, words and phrases and paragraphs, all began to fade away, like green dust which glowed like glitter, its shine caught in the soft light of the library, before disappearing forever. Like ash, it was blown away. 

Julius walked the corridors, delving deeper and deeper into the Library. The dust followed him where he went, puffed out of life in rooms he never even touched, and sighed away into the darkness where he had no need to touch. 

Aion’s Eyes saw all. 

And Julius decided what was to be undone, to be unravelled from the Tapestry forever - permanently.   


All and any remaining references to them, to The Weavers, was extinguished that night. Bera’s search for answers would stop here. Not even the Seraphim Lords would be able to give her the answers to what she sought. The only one who had all the answers was Julius himself.

And he would not shed light on them again, despite his love for her. She may plead, she may beg, and she may weep.

_One day you will understand,_ Julius thought silently, though not without a stab of grief. Such an image was heartbreaking.

He continued down, down into the deepest levels of the Library – to the Ancient Library. Here, Aether was strongest, humming from the Artefacts which remained behind locked doors. He passed them one by one, recalling each one as he left them behind. Not because he was a scholar of study himself, but because these were all Artefacts from his own time, and while even the greatest of minds puzzled over how to activate many or to understand their purpose, Julius – and the Empyrean Lords – were the only ones left alive to remember how to use them. They  _had_ used them, long ago, in the Millennium War, in the thousand years leading up to the Cataclysm itself, against the Balaur.

Oh how times had been different back then. There was no Elysea nor Asmodae. They were all one people, one race and one nation. The Tower was still standing, there was no such thing as the Abyss, and all twelve Empyrean Lords fought together against the Dragon Lords and the Balaur. 

Now, the planet was split, Lord Israphel and Lady Siel were both dead, and the Empyrean Lords – where once they had all loved each other as brothers and sisters in arms – now despised each other. 

Great friends had been lost.

Israphel’s betrayal had cost them everything. 

The emotions still lingered in Julius’s heart. But eight hundred years had dampened their ferocity to a cold flame. 

Julius came to a stop outside one unmarked door. Insignificant in its appearance, many would have mistaken it as a door to a broomstick cupboard. 

It  _was_ a broomstick cupboard. But behind the wall, a hidden chamber lay. Julius pulled apart the strings of stone and rock and passed through into the hidden chamber as if he stepped through a wall of water and air. 

In the physical realm, there was no light here. The chamber possessed the deepest darkness which even Asmodae did not cultivate. The chamber’s air was heavy and still, stagnant with age and silence. The dust of Aether which was the air, hung, suspended in space like a million stars within frozen time. 

It stirred like water as Julius moved through it, still a place of green light to his sight. The shining outline of a table stood in the centre, the Aether of wood sturdy in its design and law, yet still flowing along its grains, outlining the finest patterns of the layers of wood itself. 

A book lay on the table, and Julius picked it up. It was a journal of sorts to him, not his original which had been destroyed in the Cataclysm, but was one he began just over a hundred years ago. 

He flicked through the pages, his heart heavy with both fondness, and sadness over its contents, for it documented everything of his life again starting a century ago. In particular, it was about Bera. 

He still wrote in his original tongue. Nowadays it was called Ancient Atreian. But to him, it was the mother-tongue of the world, and one which he still remembered as clear as day. 

‘_Even as a baby, Bera shows her ability to See and sense the Tapestry of Aether. She watches the lines keenly and can even touch and hold them. Sometimes when she is awake during the night, her eyes glow with our reflective Aion’s Sight. Had she been born in the last Age with me, such abilities would not have to be hidden. _

_But here and now, I cannot afford her to begin Weaving with infant-like care, especially in front of Sophie and Yohan. If they notice, then so will the Seraphim Lords. Certainly while she is so young and defenceless, Bera must remain invisible to their gaze._

_Therefore I asked Sudryl to help me seal her abilities for now. He hopes and intends on allowing her abilities to fully awaken later in the future when the time is upon us. _

_However, he does not know of my intentions. I may currently be in the body of a boy once again, but my power has not waned._

_3_ _rd_ _ Age; Year 694’_

‘_Bera’s abilities finally awoke last night. Her heartbreak and confusion over her mother’s madness and Yohan finally showing his true colours caused her to rip the Weave and open a Gate into the Abyss. The Balaur came through took Sophie and Yohan by surprise. Despite being Purebloods themselves, even powerful Daeva can fall to the unsuspecting blade. Perhaps I should have saved them, but my anger was too great, and still is. Sophie maybe I could have saved, for she truly did love Sudryl, to the point of madness, yet it also meant she loved Bera, for which I cannot fault. _

_However, it is for the best. Sudryl loved only one, and that was Thalia. _

_Once Sophie and Yohan were dispatched by the Balaur, I killed the Balaur myself and sealed the rip. Unfortunately, it was not long before Ariel and the others found out. I feel disgusted with myself, but I accepted their aid in sweeping the deaths of two Purebloods beneath the carpet. They did me a favour, I will admit, but in doing so I have had to reveal myself, and Bera. _

_It was a great shock to all five of them, to see Bera and myself again. They believed we had died in the Cataclysm. Certainly for myself it had come close. As for Bera however, I still do not fully understand, for her true time is here and now. She was born here, she lived here, before she somehow came to us seven hundred years ago. _

_I am getting off track. Bera’s Weaving abilities have woken, it seems, but she is too young to understand them, nor do I want her to understand. While I have yet to full discover how she was with us during the Millennium War, there were many things I learnt from her while she was with us. She is Aion’s Key. And her role in the prophecy will be fulfilled if she comes into her powers. _

_I already lost her once. I will not . . . I CANNOT lose her again. I simply can’t . . . _

_Therefore I have sealed her memories of how she opened the Gate. And I will continue to do so until I can find a way to fulfil the prophecy myself, without her._

_3_ _rd_ _ Age; Year 702’_

‘_The Alliance brought Bera back to Heiron late this afternoon. She was unconscious, yet unharmed, which baffled the others for they described her as being heavily wounded when they had collected her. They put it down to her apothecary skills which allowed her to endure for so long in combat. Alas I know it was the Weave which had healed her wounds._

_I also know what happened at the Divine Fortress. Luckily none of the survivors saw exactly what had transpired at the turning point of the battle. However, they did describe Bera having wielded a great power which sent the Balaur retreating through the ranks. _

_There was great joy upon the victory, yet also great grief from the losses. The majority of survivors appear to be simply drained of emotion, having fluctuated between believing they were defeated and about to die, to sudden unexplained victory and survival._

_Cedric however, did not survive, which does bring great heaviness to my heart. He was a good fighter, and a good man. Bera will feel his death keenly. The two had been friends for decades, and despite being of different Legions, the pair worked very well together on missions and in battles. I could even say they worked well enough and bantered together as much as our own friends of my Legion. _

_I do not look forward to giving her this news. She was most likely there when he died, but she will not remember it, nor will she remember how she Wove the Aether and extinguished the Balaur army like a breath over a candle flame.’_

_3_ _rd_ _ Age; Year 789’_

Julius briefly read through a few more passages. In just the one hundred years which had passed since Bera had been born, so many things had occurred. There were worrying thoughts and memories within these pages, sorrow and anger, but also joy and passages which made him smile with amusement from the hilarity at the time. 

In the end, he closed the book. Even the muffled clap of the pages thumping shut was loud in the stillness of the chamber. Once the sound dissipated, his sigh was the last.

He held his journal up to level with his eyes, and there, he unravelled the pages and the words which were written upon the paper. 

Shimmering green dust puffed into the air, the journal becoming nothing more than a memory, a memory which only Julius would remember. 

_Forgive me, Bera, but your search ends here. _

Julius remained where he was for a long time. The dust began to fall still around him, suspended in the air, a solitary and silent planetarium it could have been to his eyes. Except, he did not want to See, for all he Saw in that dust were his memories which he could not share. Within that dust, within the green glow of lines which surrounded him in its glorious power, was a reminder of how alone he felt. 

“_You are Aion’s Vessel, Julius. To bear the power of Aion, is to be alone.”_

Sudryl had said those words to him such a long time ago. Almost two thousand years ago now. Julius had both loved and hated those words, in the same way he both loved and hated Sudryl, for truer words had never been spoken before. 

But then Bera had come, and Julius’s loneliness had been pushed back. She was the other bearer, the only one in the entire world who understood him, who could stand beside him as an equal.

He could not go back to a time when she did not exist. He could not go back to a time when he was alone again. He could not lose her. The fear was too great. His fists shook, a tremble in the darkness which was his only sign of the terror which was always so close to paralysing him. 

It took great control for him to bring that fear back under control, to ease the clenching of his fist to relax his fingers, and to smooth the frown which had creased his brow.

Bera was still here. His fears for now were still just possible futures which may or may not come to pass. They were futures he had to ensure would never come to pass. 

Therefore he teleported out from the chamber, though simultaneously released the Library back to Fuchsia and public access. Julius returned to his manor in Oriel and materialised in Bera’s room. The lines of Aether were strong here, and all congregated around Bera as a great source which she both absorbed and projected out. In the same way Empyrean Lords bore the presence of Aether in their auras, Bera was no different, even if she did not realise. She was a powerful Daeva in her own right, and was recognised for it. But her newfound power which was emerging was threading its way through her aura as well as string wove into cloth.   


Julius stood by the bed where she lay. The sleeping spell he cast upon her still held, much to his relief. He gently slipped off the dagger she had strapped to her lower leg and using the Aether, he reverted her clothing back to her night garments and placed her current clothes into the draws which she had originally brought them out from. 

He then pulled the duvet up to her shoulders and sat on the edge of the bed, his shoulders sagging. He took one of her hands in his own. How small her hands were compared to his. It was hard to imagine that such small and delicate hands could so deftly take life away and wield power equivalent to his and Sudryl’s. 

Yet at the same time, those small hands also reminded him of the little girl he had chosen to grow up with, the girl he had played with in the trees and on the swings, taught and read to, as well as disciplined on equally countless occasions. They reminded him of a little girl who laughed without holding anything back, a girl who threw tantrums and a girl who showed fear and – or – courage, all at the wrong times. 

She was no different now, except for the fact she now wore the body of a woman, and her emotions had far greater control as opposed to her youth. She was infinitely more intelligent now as well. Sharper and observant. 

_Perhaps not in all things, _ he then thought with a faint smile.  _Affairs of the heart seem to elude you still. You have yet to realise my own heart for you, when you have realised your own for me. _

He exhaled heavily. Maybe it was for the best. A love between them was forbidden. Nothing but tragedy could be borne from it.  


“Never change, Bera,” he whispered.

He moved his other hand out to hover over her eyes, when he paused. It was what he had done every time. He was always sealing her memories, to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. It had been manageable back then. Her aura was not as great, nor had she made the connection between her ability to See the Weave and to Weave it. 

Now, the Tapestry cocooned her, as it did him. Julius could not touch her memories anymore. They were hers to keep. 

His fingers curled into a fist, but a loose one as he brought his hand back to his lap. 

It was why he erased the knowledge from the Library, why he brought her back here and put her belongings away. The only thing Julius could do now was to try and trick her into believing it had all been a dream. But Bera was clever. Even if she would never find what she read in the Library again or retrace her steps to Keep Atherton, she would piece it all together, eventually. 

Julius’s jaw clenched. The best thing he could do now was to distract her, to keep her away from her own thoughts.

“You will return to the Abyss tomorrow, Bera,” he said quietly. 

_This time, I will have a duty for you. If you wish to help me as much as you wish you could, then I will have you help me save Atreia. But my way. Not Aion’s will. _

He leant down and kissed her softly on the cheek, resisting his desire to kiss her on the lips. She thought he could not remember when she had kissed him and put him to sleep. However, Julius did remember. He remembered everything. 

Julius cupped her face. There was so much she did not know. And there was so much he wished and fought to keep hidden. Yet his selfish heart did want her to know one thing. He wanted her to know how much he felt for her. He wanted so much to tell her, to show her. He wanted to kiss her, to feel the softness of her lips on his, to embrace her as more than just friend or family. 

However, he could not. 

With great effort, Julius pulled himself away. With one last gaze at Bera, he teleported back to Teminon Landing, where he wrote the mission she would undertake to pull her away from Elysea. 

* * * * *

I awoke to the sound of birdsong. It drifted in through the open window and between the curtains, where sunlight streamed down the slitted gaps in between the material. The air was sweet with the scent of pollen from the flowers outside in the garden. 

How did I end up back here?

Sitting up abruptly, I cast a quick glance around my bedroom. It was definitely my bedroom and I was still in my shift. 

_But . . . but I thought I had gone to Keep Atherton_ , I thought, suddenly confused and wary. I recalled being unable to sleep, then walking through Oriel, following the lines of green light to the Keep, where I Wove the Aether into flowers, bent the bars of a gate and – 

“And opened a rift into the Abyss . . .” I whispered, feeling my body turn cold. Something had come through the rift, something beyond my powers as a Daeva, something as powerful as an Empyrean or Dragon Lord. 

Then it had all gone black. 

How did I make it back home? Did I even leave in the first place?

I threw my duvet off and dashed to my cupboards. The clothes I thought I had worn last night were as neatly folded as I had left them. My dagger was locked away safely in another, as if I had never clipped it to my leg in the first place. 

My heart pounded in my chest which had suddenly grown tight. Had it just been a nightmare? A bad dream?

But yesterday I had been in the Library, researching. I found something, a reference to the Weaver. I could  _Weave_ ! I did it, in the night just gone!

Yet it did not explain how I was comfortably back in my own bed, sprawled out as if I had slept like a log. 

I quickly changed, a panicked question coming to my mind which had to be answered. There  _was_ a way to tell if last night had all been a dream or reality. 

The flower, and the Abyss Gate.

Once changed and tidy, I left the manor, with Keep Atherton at the foremost in my mind. If that really had been a Gate which I had opened, then that meant there was a path directly into the heart of Elysea. Our very safety was compromised, and it was my fault. 

That was how Sophie and Yohan died. I opened the Gate as a child. The Balaur came through and killed them. I had not seen it all completely due to closed eyes for the most part, but I heard the shouts of shock as the Balaur rushed through. Sophie was the first to die, her madness having rendered her prowess as Pureblood to naught more than a lame infant. 

Yohan on the other hand, fought. But he too had been taken by surprise. He would not have understood what had happened, and the death of his wife would have only added to the terrible shock which resultantly took his life. I could still hear it, the bellows of the Balaur, the splatter of blood across the walls, Sophie’s screams and Yohan’s shouts. 

Then silence. 

When I had opened my eyes again, just by a fraction, Julius stood alone in the room in front with his back to me. Balaur, Sophie and Yohan were dead. The Gate was closed. Blood covered everything, including Julius. He had seemed much taller and older at that moment in time, as if he were the same age and appearance as he was now. 

How was that even possible? Julius was only in his mid-teenhood at the time.

Doubt crept into my mind. Did my returning memory have flaws? Because what I recalled seeing did not match the logic nor facts of numbers. 

I came across the patch of grass across the bridge where the single chrysanthemum grew. I had grown another, a second, just next to it, using the same source of Aether from the roots to grow a twin. 

However, the second chrysanthemum was not there. I stood, staring down at the lone flower, wondering where on Atreia was the other. 

_But . . . I _ know _ I made another one,_ I thought with conviction. I remembered doing it, and I could still do it again. Although, I did not, certainly not in broad daylight. 

A frown creased my brow as I began to wonder and worry the authenticity of my memory. I had an entire lifetime after all of odd and forgotten memories. I could not be certain anymore as to whether one was true memory, or simply a dream. 

I dragged my gaze up from the chrysanthemum and glanced about me. Oriel was filled with sunlight and activity. Birds sang merrily, streams bubbled happily, children played in the courtyards and business men and women shouted their wares and prices from the squares. Daevas walked along the paths, enjoying the stroll through the graceful neighbourhood. Some walked alone, some walked arm in arm. Some were in silent thought, while others chattered with vigour.

The world was right here – and yet I felt completely disconnected from it. The world of multiple colours and physical, material things were merged with the eternal emerald glow of the matrix which connected everything. Though faint, I could still see it. 

I pulled myself away from the flower and walked the quiet roads towards Keep Atherton. My heart pounded within my chest, dreading the thought of the Abyss Gate lying within my old home, and in the very heart of Elysea’s safest land of Oriel. 

My eyes darted to every shadow, nook and cranny, expecting to see one of the Balaur lurking within the shade. I half expected to see blood splattered on the pavings, or across the trunks of trees and across the pristine white of other Daeva’s fences. 

Nothing. 

In the end however, the fear, the anticipation and the dread became too much. Breaking into a run, I dashed up the last road to the Keep. Slipping into my combat self, I scouted the front gate before climbing over the wall and quickly slinking up the path between the rose bushes. Glancing up, I spied the windows, expecting to see a flaming arrow shoot from one of those gaping voids. 

Each window was dark however, including the one wherein it had all gone wrong. 

I entered the Keep, letting its cool shadow fall over me. Silently and swiftly, I climbed the stairs and glided down hallways. My chest grew ever tighter, my hearing painfully acute, and my breath increasingly sharp. 

I stopped by the final wall, next to the mangled door-frame.  My heart felt like it was ready to burst from my chest. My palms were clammy and sweaty. Even before Tiamat, I had never felt such terror and dread. 

Through the beating of my heart, I strained to listen for any sound, for the gutteral tongue of the Balauric language, or for the eerily echoed voice of the Abyss Gate. 

However, there was nothing. 

The tension became too much, snapping, and so, going into invisible stealth mode, I turned into the room, sliding into my stance, Aether ready at the fingertips to imbued into the blade which I carried. 

The room was empty. 

It was exactly as I had remembered it. It had not changed since we had moved out from the Keep and into Julius’s manor. The room remained mangled and twisted, glass over the floor, dust settled over surfaces, and leaves over the ground from where they had blown in through the cracked windows. 

There were no Balaur. There was no Abyss Gate. 

I blinked, partially in astonishment, and partially with dumbfounded confusion. Furniture was still twisted, nothing had moved. There had been no sign of disturbed glass or leaves from the window where I was sure I had last been conscious. The Aether felt as odd as it always had.

Stiffly, I came out of my low stance, and stood in the middle of the room, staring all around me. I was both relieved, and yet mortified simultaneously. Relieved because there was no Abyss Gate and therefore no doorway into Elysea which could have threatened our safety. But also mortified because I was sure I had pulled the Tapestry apart and opened a Gate into the Abyss. I was certain I had been here last night. 

But where was the evidence? 

Had it all been a bad dream after all?

My breath came out as a hiss between my clenched teeth. 

_No,_ I thought _. It couldn’t have been a dream though. Because I can still see the lines. I know how to use them now!_

I pressed my hands against my eyes, forcing them shut. But I could still see the Tapestry, even behind my closed eye lids. 

“I’m so confused,” I breathed. 


End file.
